


My sword and my heart

by GarGoyl



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Smut, Historical, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 05:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 55,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2610713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarGoyl/pseuds/GarGoyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Sultan Sadiq's armies are at the gates of Europe, the German King Ludwig sends his older son Gilbert as a hostage at Sadiq's court. Gaining position as one of the Divan's military advisors, the Prussian is rewarded by receiving a certain prisoner of war as his servant. A Prussia/Romania story. Disclaimer - I don't own Hetalia</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The prince

**CHAPTER 1**

" _Well_... _one thing is for sure," the King said, rolling back the scroll and placing it upon the maps laden table with a weary hand, "This peace is fragile. So far the harsh winter has shielded us from Sultan Sadiq's wrath, as he cannot transport his cannons up the Danube on such weather, but in spring he will be upon our walls… That is, if we don't act wisely while there's still time…"_

Gilbert shook his head, trying to concentrate on what the Venetian emissary was saying, but his father's words kept popping into his mind. He had only been here for six months, and the pain was still vivid inside him.

" _I have thus negotiated with the Divan and so, my sons, it was decided that one of you will be sent to Sadiq's court, as a guarantee of our goodwill towards the Ottomans. As such, he will enter the Sultan's service and be at his disposal…"_

The Prussian sighed. And so the old King Ludwig had paid a heavy price to protect his people, by giving away his eldest son, sending him to the Ottoman hell. Gilbert had known it would be him, even before his father had uttered the words himself, that he would keep the younger Ludwig - the one who'd had the privilege to inherit his name – by his side, safe, shielded from harm. The choice had both honored and pained the older boy. Just as fearless as he would have ridden into battle for the freedom of his people he would now go to the Ottoman court, but it hurt so much to know that he probably wasn't ever going to see his parents, his brother or his homeland ever again. As one of Divan's military advisors, he was pretty much burdened with work, but there were times like this, when no amount of work could keep his mind away from painful memories.

He was brought back from his thoughts when a servant walked in hurriedly and whispered into his ear that the His Greatness the Sultan wanted to see him. His mind barely registered the Venetian retreating with a long bow as he stood up himself and followed the man outside of the room, into the richly decorated hallway.

Gilbert hated how this palace overwhelmed him – it was by far the largest he'd ever seen in his life – how there were so many intricate corridors, so many passages, interior gardens, some areas that were restricted to the majority, other areas that were completely forbidden, and how he still needed to be guided around the place like a child every single time, for fear he would get lost in this maze, this endless prison that was Topkapi, and would end up in a very wrong place.

The Prussian ignored the occasional glares thrown at him by the various courtiers and servants as he passed them by on his way to the Divan's hall. He had not adopted the humble, rather hunchbacked posture that was so familiar with them, instead walking proudly, with his chin held high. Also, the fact that he was still dressed after the European fashion irritated them, and the silver cross he stubbornly wore around his neck was an open act of defiance. Anyway, their opinion was not important. It was always the Sultan's will that mattered, and His Greatness had shown tolerance in this respect. Even if he hated the idea, Gilbert had to be grateful for these small privileges that differentiated him from the servants otherwise recruited from other parts of the Empire and its surroundings, and which had been forced to convert fully to the Ottoman ways.

But what he hated the most was the fact that Sadiq was a man to be threaded around with extreme care, feared, he was so intimidating. He was never to be looked directly in the eye, one's head could roll down for that alone. Saluting him took more than kneeling, one's forehead had to touch the cold marble at his feet and the hem of his robes had to be kissed in reverence. It was all more than humiliating and Gilbert did not take humiliation too well.

The Prussian followed the servant into the Divan's hall, wiping away the sudden sweat of his palms onto his long, black velvet coat. It was one of those moments when the familiar weight of the sword against his thigh gave him no comfort. Clenching his jaw ever so slightly, he proceeded with the protocol, crouching and leaning forward until his brow touched the soft carpet. His reluctant hand then reached for the silky purple robes and he pressed them against his lips. He could almost feel how much that was pleasing the Ottoman, yet he did not dare look up into the masked face that hovered above him. He was forced to remain in the same uncomfortable position while the Sultan leaned back on his cushions and launched in a speech meant to emphasize his on-going disdain in regard to the ways of the _non-believers_. Gilbert had quite the conviction that Sadiq was also enjoying that, enjoying every word that went past his lips, and felt all the more resentful for it as his back was beginning to hurt.

"… and as such we now see fit to grace you with our generosity and reward you for your services…"

Wait, what? Had the Sultan said something about a reward? For him? Well that was unusual… However, said reward failed to be named and knowing the perverted mind that was behind that statement, Gilbert decided to regard it with circumspection rather than be glad about it.

_**Okay so this chapter was mostly introductory and I totally had to do it because it obsessed me…** _

_**To be continued** _

 


	2. Sadiq's gift

After a brief dinner Gilbert had retreated to his room, on the edge of his nerves, dreading this whole mystery surrounding the Sultan's decision to _reward_ him, as he couldn't fend off a vague feeling that it was something foul involved in it. He walked up and took Gilbird - his little canary - out of its cage and played with it for a while rather absentmindedly, but that failed to make him feel any less uneasy. After some more time, he just flung himself onto his bed and laid there with his eyes closed.

It was almost midnight when the door suddenly swung open and the Prussian, who had almost dozed off in the meantime, jumped up to his feet at the sight of the Administrator Murat. A cold shudder crept down his spine, remembering the first time the fat, powdered courtier had barged in on him like this, shortly after his arrival, to search his room. Gilbert had shouted at the man and had demanded to be treated according to his rank, only to have the tip of a riding crop placed promptly under his nose. The _non-believer_ would do better to keep his mouth shut if he did not want to be dragged outside and be given a beating in front of all the servants, Murat had warned coldly, and that was the moment when Gilbert had fully understood just how precarious his position was here. And so, he naturally assumed that the Administrator's presence could mean nothing good.

"In his majestic generosity, His Greatness the Sultan sends you this servant as a gift," Murat recited monotonously, "He's a Valah ( _A/N – Romanian_ ) prisoner of war. He is very educated, speaks several languages, writes poetry, plays the flute and knows how to wield a sword…"

Gilbert cleared his throat, which felt suddenly dry.

"So… he is to be my secretary?" he took the opportunity to ask while the Administrator had paused to assess the effect of his words, even though said servant had not yet come into view.

A smirk played on the Turk's lips for a brief moment before he answered. "He is to be your servant and whatever else you wish him to be. His skills, his body and his life now belong to you…" He made a calling gesture and two Janissaries appeared, forcefully dragging a young man into the room.

"However," Murat went on, "despite his many qualities, he is also extremely rude, rebellious, disobedient and cheeky. His Greatness has expressed the hope that you will be able to _handle_ him, and thus succeed where others have failed…"

The Prussian simply stood there, silent. He didn't like this at all, especially the way in which the Administrator had uttered the word 'handle'. But he knew that a refusal, irrespective of how polite he chose to phrase it, would be an offence to the Sultan and it would almost certainly result in punishment.

"And now," the Turk said, gingerly turning to the boy, "Valentin, I hope you have understood your instructions!"

Gilbert eyed the newcomer with curiosity. He was a tad shorter than him, his body lithe bordering skinny, had a very pale but almost unearthly handsome face, and eyes the same color as his own, shadowed by long bangs of strawberry blonde hair.

His careful observation was rather abruptly interrupted when the Romanian shouted something in a language unknown to the Prussian and spat right into Murat's powdered face. One of the Janissaries promptly moved and punched him in the face, and Gilbert flinched at the sound of cracking bones. The Administrator murmured profanities, wiping his face with an embroidered handkerchief, then made another calling gesture. The Janissaries shoved Valentin down on his knees at the silver haired man's feet.

"Come on now, kiss the hem of your Master's clothes" Murat instructed, his voice seeping with anger, pushing the tip of his crop between the young man's shoulder blades.

The Romanian pushed a strand of hair behind his ear and snorted back some of the blood that was gushing from his broken nose, then reached for the hem of Gilbert's black velvet coat and reluctantly brought it to his lips.

"Thank you… I-I'm very grateful to His Greatness for his gift…" the Prussian finally mumbled, taking a deep bow, and secretly sighed in relief when he noticed that the Administrator looked pleased with his answer.

"Very good then!" Murat concluded. "Oh and be careful… he _bites_ …"

With another devious smirk, the Turk was gone, carefully closing the door in his wake. Gilbert was left standing in the middle of the small room, feeling utterly inane, while his new servant had retreated to a corner and was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, pressing his bleeding nose with a piece of cloth he'd fished out of his pocket.

"What the hell?"

The Prussian cast a glance around the room, inspecting the fine carvings that adorned the walls, and feeling himself getting more and more worked up by the second.

"They're watching us, aren't they?" he shouted again. " _He_ is watching, yeah?"

Somewhere in the back of his mind Gilbert knew that, since he was never away from prying eyes and ears, throwing a tantrum was a very bad idea, but now he just couldn't hold it back anymore. His fingers worked furiously to unbuckle his belt that suddenly felt too uncomfortable to wear and he threw it on the floor, along with his sheathed sword, and they hit the carpet with a dull thud.

"So… Valentin, is it? You were given _instructions_ ," he spat, "tell me, what am I supposed to do with you, huh? Fuck you against my desk while His Greatness is watching and stuffing his face with sweets?" he added pointing to the small piece of furniture on which he kept his papers.

"Is that what you want to do?" The Romanian snorted some more, but his voice was blunt and emotionless.

"Ha! When was this ever about what _I_ want?" the silver haired prince jumped. "Because if it were, you wouldn't be here _at all_! I have no need of an additional someone to stare at me! Heaven forbid, they must have thought that I was enjoying too much _privacy_! It wasn't enough that I can't take a bath, I can't even take a _fucking piss_ in this damned place without someone being around! Some reward this is, not that I was in need of his fucking rewards in the first place!"

It was late and Gilbert was tired, his little outburst had left him feeling all drained. Without any further words, he slid the coat off his shoulders and tossed it on the back of his chair, then flung himself onto the bed and turned his back on the other boy, pulling the covers over his head.

* * *

The Prussian had barely slept for a short while, yet he woke up again. He was still tired, but the nervousness that was upon him refused to let him rest. Now his anger had positively melted into fear. What the hell was the meaning of the Sultan's gift? What was expected of him? He had better figure this out soon or else… Gilbert had quickly learned that – especially as a hostage – a lot of bad things could happen to someone in this place. One could be beheaded, or impaled, or tortured to death. Or tortured period. Or whipped in public. It all depended on how much the Ottomans hated them, or on the nature of their offence. But there was also a rumor that as a hostage, especially if you were young, you could have the further misfortune of being bedded by high ranking courtiers and even by the Sultan himself against your will. And that thought alone turned his stomach more than everything else.

The silver haired boy shifted in his bed, glancing down at the servant who had fallen asleep curled up onto the floor, using his long coat as a cover. A pang of guilt shot through him at the sight, but his bed was so small that he himself had to be careful not to turn in his sleep and fall down, not to mention that he could barely stretch his legs properly. In fact, the whole damned room was so small and cramped that they lay pretty close to one another as it was. Anyway, said servant happened to be very attractive, he pondered. Gilbert was into both men and women, so he could tell. But he would have never forced himself on someone, a thing which he was convinced that the Sultan had no problem doing. It was very strange then how this young man, who was also a _non-believer_ , had been _given_ to him, of all people. Well, it was obvious that he was not exactly the compliant type, but it wasn't like they couldn't have broken him if they wanted, they had effective ways…

' _His Greatness has expressed the hope that you will be able to handle him, and thus succeed where others have failed…' Do they want_ me _to break him, to bring him to obedience?_ _Yes… force me to do this, to hurt another_ non-believer, _what better way to humiliate us both…?_

Well the Prussian resolved that he wasn't going to do that. If they'd given the Romanian as his servant, fine, he would treat him as such. He would put him to work, give him chores, coerce him to do his duties if he had to, although he really hoped it wouldn't be necessary. And he would just play dumb for all the rest. He hadn't been with anyone since he'd gotten here so no one knew his preferences anyway. With these soothing thoughts he finally drifted off to much needed sleep…

* * *

The break of dawn and the hour when his daily duties usually started came around much too soon for the still exhausted Prussian, and he cursed, struggling to drag himself out of the bed. Recalling the events of the previous night, a groan escaped his lips, realizing that he wasn't alone in his room anymore. God, that was totally not awesome, in fact it was down straight awkward… Deciding that he had to face it, so the sooner the better, he sat up and glanced around the room, still blinking sleepily. And that was when the awkwardness suddenly turned into terror – Valentin was gone.


	3. Unwanted attention

Gilbert sat unmoved for what felt like endless hours, wave after wave of terror washing over him. All sorts of horrible visions of torture and other sinister punishments floated before his eyes as he could not stop wondering what they were going to do to him for having 'lost' his servant. And on top of everything, he could not stop blaming himself for this – _what the hell_ had he been thinking? He'd been clearly told that the prisoner was rebellious and disobedient, shouldn't he have thought of restraining him or something…? Not that there was any chance for the man to escape Topkapi alive, but still…

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest as the door slowly creaked open, pushed by a foot and Valentin walked in, carrying a tray of food, which he carefully placed on his desk.

The Prussian finally dared to move, but it was only to bury his face in his hands. _Where the hell have you been? How dared you leave without my permission?_ he wanted to scream, but the answer was obvious. The Romanian had probably just done as previously instructed by the Administrator Murat, so snapping at him now would have been misplaced… Taking a deep breath, he waited for the knot in his stomach to gradually dissolve.

"I've brought you breakfast, _efendi_ ( _A/N – Master, Turkish),_ " the servant said, his voice unexpectedly soft but still terribly impersonal.

"Thank you," Gilbert grumbled, rubbing the back of his head, uncomfortable.

It wasn't that he wasn't used to having servants, he'd had plenty in his father's palace, but hell, those were _real_ servants, not prisoners of war forced to do the job. As such, he didn't have a very clear idea on how to behave with this fellow _non-believer,_ who was most likely of noble origin by the looks and description and who, just like him, had had the misfortune of ending up in here.

" _Efendi_ , you never say 'thank you' to a servant," Valentin corrected him. "It is against protocol"

The silver haired prince suddenly looked up to see if he wasn't being mocked by any chance, but the other boy had quite a serious expression.

"Whoops! My bad…" he retorted ill-humored, stuffing a piece of bread in his mouth and poking randomly at the cheese. He then busied himself with pouring a cup of fresh coffee from the kettle, burning his finger in the process, while his servant simply stood there, silent and staring at the carpet pattern.

"Ah, ow!" the Prussian whined, almost dropping the kettle and sucking on his finger. "Could you help me with that, Vali?"

"You don't mind if I call you Vali, do you? It's… you know… shorter," he added, eyes trained on the slender fingers that now held his cup, filling it carefully, but then looking up their possessor gave him a glance that clearly told him he'd made yet another goof.

_Damn it!_ he suddenly realized, _I'm not supposed to ask his permission! He's my servant, I can call him whatever I like!_

Gilbert scrubbed a hand over his face, nervous. There was something that he had to get off his chest and it had to be done now.

"Look, there's something I want to say, and it's not against protocol, because since you're my servant I can say whatever I want to say to you, other than 'thanks', right? So here it is – I'm sorry that this happened to you, well hell, not half as sorry as I am that this happened to _me_ , but I am… And I'm sorry that I yelled at you last night and that I said those horrible things… I mean none of this is your fault…"

Valentin lifted his head and his gaze bore into the Prussian's, scrutinizing and somewhat surprised.

"It's no one's fault, _efendi_ ," he eventually said cautiously, imperceptibly tilting his head in the direction of the door.

"Right… no one's fault…" Gilbert understood.

* * *

After having a rather brief breakfast and changing into fresh clothes, Gilbert had been escorted by his new servant to the Hall where the Court would gather for the day. Hell, that was even more awkward – how come Valentin knew his way around this place so well? How long had he been here anyway? There were many things the Prussian wanted to ask him, but for some reason he just wasn't in the mood for talking, or at least not yet.

His discomfort was unexpectedly amplified as he entered the Divan Hall and made the unsettling discovery that he was now the subject of the latest gossip among courtiers. Apparently everyone knew about the 'gift' made to him by His Greatness the Sultan.

"Come now, _beyefendi_ ( _A/N – Sir, Turkish_ ) Beilschmidt, tell us everything!" one courtier said openly, while several others giggled suggestively.

_My Goodness, they act like they're a bunch of silly wenches, not men!_

"What about?" he asked coldly, but still careful to preserve a polite appearance. Hell, he could not afford to step onto anyone's nerves. _Unfortunately..._

"The Valah devil…" the man murmured, leaning closer. "See, my friends and I have made bets whether you'd still be alive this morning. So now I want to know how come I've lost so much money," he added somewhat chagrined.

The Prussian frowned, further irritated by their chuckling. "And why wouldn't I be alive, my dear sirs? I can handle my own servant just fine!" Saying that, he tried to walk away to his seat, but the courtier obnoxiously clung to his arm.

"Wait, wait! _Beyefendi_ Beilschmidt, you will forgive me for saying it, but I fear that you are terribly ignorant in this _matter_ …"

"What do you mean?"

The other man shook his head.

"We have all seen the boy when he was brought here after his capture… it must have been a little while before your arrival, _beyefendi_ … Well, we had heard stories of his people before - they are all savages, bloodthirsty fighters who would rather take their own lives than surrender… Anyway, I suppose that the Sultan thought it somewhat of an accomplishment to take this one alive, after all the damage he and his men had caused among our ranks, so he was brought here, before the Divan, to be judged. Oh, very beautiful, this barbarian, but he behaved like a wild beast! The foolish guards had underestimated his strength and so he managed to free himself from their grip and dared to attack His Greatness with his bare hands!"

_Sounds like the deed of someone who has nothing left to lose... But honestly, wouldn't any of his enemies want to do the same?_ Gilbert thought bitterly. "That sounds pretty terrifying…" he said instead, trying to appear mildly interested.

"Of course, we all thought that his head would roll down right then and there," the courtier went on, "but the Sultan would not let go of his precious prey that easily, it seemed, so instead he was thrown in the dungeons. And no one has heard about him ever since, well, not until now, when he was handed as a 'gift' to you. Yet rumor has it that the Sultan alone has visited him, in great secrecy though, from time to time…"

"I see, well… I suppose that what the Sultan has decided – in his infinite wisdom- to do with his prisoner is none of my business, is it _beyefendi?_ I am only His Greatness' humble servant, and as such I shall not stick my nose where it doesn't belong… _"_

In all truth, Gilbert had no desire to hear any tales of Sadiq's possible perversities and furthermore he suspected that the courtiers only meant to intimidate him in their usual fashion. _Look what happened to this man or the other_ , they would say, _if you don't obey it could very well happen to you too._

"That might be true, but now that he is _all yours_ … he is your business, and you may very well know what you're dealing with before, Heaven forbid, something unfortunate might come to happen to you…"

The Prussian snorted. " _Beyefendi_ , you will forgive me if I don't see the reason for all this fuss over a simple servant. Administrator Murat has told me that the boy was trained for the job, and indeed so far he has done his duties, and nothing inappropriate. _Other than scaring me shitless when I thought he was gone!_ So I had no trouble with him _"_

The courtier looked genuinely surprised and wanted to say something in reply, but then Sultan Sadiq walked in and everyone fell silent, kneeling to the ground in reverence.

* * *

When the Divan meeting for that day was over, Gilbert walked out hurriedly, seeking to avoid further pestering on the subject of his new servant. But that wasn't going to happen soon. Valentin was waiting for him outside in the hallway, and that instantly drew the attention of the annoying courtiers.

_What the hell!? This couldn't have been any worse!_ the silver haired male cursed inwardly, noticing how they were staring at the young Romanian as if he were some treat they would have liked to try their teeth on.

He'd been given more suitable clothing – or probably they'd just returned his own clothes - a dark red, buttoned up coat that reached down to his knees, black trousers and knee high boots. And he also wore a small matching hat with two colorful… ribbons? Red suited him so well, Gilbert noticed, contrasting beautifully with the color of his hair and matching the ruby shade of his eyes, as well as the small earring bud adorning his left ear.

"Are you alright, _efendi_?" the blonde asked him, noticing how he stared a bit. _Yeah, maybe just a bit…_

"Phua, just awesome!" the prince snorted, rolling his eyes. "Let's get out of here, I've pretty much had it for the day!"

They walked in silence down the corridors, the Prussian tugging at his collar from time to time. _Gah! It's so damned hot, hot and humid, this weather is appalling!_ He smelled himself discreetly. _Hell, now I stink!_

"Vali, wait!" he said stopping abruptly. "I will need to take a bath tonight," he added fidgeting uncomfortably, deep down already dreading it.

The Romanian nodded curtly. "Very well, _efendi_ , just wait here for a bit, I'll go back to your room to fetch some fresh clothes and I'll take you there"

Left to his own devices, Gilbert started to wander around the spot where his servant had abandoned him. He would not think anymore of the current situation, after all, it was just gossip. In six months he had gotten pretty much used to their malicious teasing and he knew they would never stop, no matter what he did, so he might just as well do nothing. He was an enemy, and he was trapped here at their disposal for life. Slowly, his thoughts wandered back home, to the green hills where he'd used to take Ludwig with him on horseback when his brother was too little to ride on his own. That blue, infinite sky dotted with soft clouds, the wild smell of herbs, cool fresh air… All those things long gone, never to return…

Suddenly, as he refocused his vision, the image of his younger brother melted into the slender silhouette of a dancer shrouded in veils. Without thinking, his nose got stuck to the wooden grate that separated him from a large, dim lit room. Curious, he peeked inside at the hypnotic movements of the woman who lasciviously swayed her hips to the rhythm of drums. The Prussian wondered if she wasn't by any chance one of the Sultan's favorites…

He was brutally brought back from his reverie when a hand suddenly gripped his arm, yanking him away from the marvelous sight.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he snapped angrily at the culprit, who was none other than his servant.

"What are _you_ doing, _efendi_? Do you want to lose your head?" Valentin questioned with a scowl, holding the bundle of clothes with one arm, while with the other he continued to drag the Prussian away.

"What the hell?! I was just looking!"

" _Just looking_? Those women are not for your eyes! They belong to the Sultan!" the Romanian scolded him.

"Right!" Gilbert agreed rolling his eyes emphatically, "What was I thinking? We _all_ belong to the Sultan, don't we…" he grumbled dryly.

"You would do better to thread more carefully, _efendi_ …" Valentin stated in a softer tone.

"Ha! What, like you did?" the Prussian immediately jumped. "You're one to talk, after you jumped to beat His Greatness in front of everyone!"

The strawberry blonde chewed on his lower lip, avoiding his gaze, and said nothing in reply, as they continued to walk towards the _hammam_ ( _A/N – public bath_ ). However, the expression on his face was clearly not one of repentance, the prince noticed. Yeah, he was definitely one hard nut to crack, at least for them, he concluded.

But much too soon they reached their destination and Gilbert suddenly had much bigger troubles. He stopped dead in his tracks in front of the large doors, wishing he could have been anywhere else in that moment, anywhere but there.

_OH HELL, now I'll have to take a fucking bath assisted by the man that is apparently craved by everyone, while they're all staring at me! Arghhh, just when I thought it couldn't get any worse!_ he realized in utter horror.

Letting out a deep-throated groan, the prince walked past the double doors, feeling his stomach cringe.


	4. Sweet dreams

_**Warning – this chapter contains false smut, as in…not really happening…yet *chuckles darkly and runs away*** _

„ _I'm awesome, I'm awesome, I'm awesome, I'm awesome..."_ Gilbert mentally repeated his little confidence-boosting mantra, until it suddenly hit him that most likely it was his own awesomeness that was at the root of all his current problems. Hell, if he had been some repelling, gruesome midget they would have probably still stared at him, maybe they would have pointed at him, laughed and made jokes, but not this...

The Prussian disliked this whole idea of public bathing not because – Heaven forbid - he was a prude, oh hell no. In fact, he very likely was the only prince ever who had happened to spend the night in a tavern and gamble away not only all his money but also all his clothes in the process, and to walk back to his castle stark naked as well as drunk out of his mind, much to his father's utter horror. No, he hated it because of the appalling way in which the Sultan's courtiers were always so openly _checking him out_ … And he wouldn't have cared about that one bit, had he not been so helpless and vulnerable in the given circumstances.

But today it was different, Gilbert pondered. Today they would be busy staring at his servant instead, like he was something else entirely. They were probably as fascinated by the beautiful _non-believer_ that had taken so much effort to be captured as they were intrigued by the mysterious reason for which the Sultan had chosen to spare his life, even after his outrageous behavior. And so, for once, they would not stare at him.

He walked determined to the edge of the large steamy basin and quickly removed his clothes, avoiding the gazes of the few courtiers who lounged on the hot tiles on the other side of the hall, chatting and giggling, and stepped inside. Unfortunately, he was proven wrong in his previous assumptions, as it soon became evident that now both he and his servant were being watched.

 _Fucking hell! They're probably wondering if anything has happened between us last night…_ Gilbert thought morosely at their snickering, as he sat down into the hot water and proceeded to sulk. But his muscles were so strained and his back was hurting after the long hours spent with the Divan, and so he gradually allowed himself to relax, lazily motioning to his servant to bring him a piece of soap. The silver haired prince's eyes closed as he let out a deep breath, propping his shoulders and head on the warm marble behind him.

_Yeah, this is not so bad… I could just stay here and relax… and think of nothing… The hell with them!_

But his moment of peace was short lived. Suddenly he heard something like a faint squeak, followed by a loud splash and a gale of laughter, and his eyes snapped open, only to discover that Valentin had taken an involuntary nose dive into the basin not far from him.

"Hey, are you alright? Did you get hurt?" the Prussian asked standing and hurrying over there, getting hold of the young man who had just managed to resurface with a loud gasp and looked a bit bewildered. He shook his head no.

Gilbert turned abruptly and glanced behind him, meeting the amused expression of Administrator Murat hovering above them. He glared questioningly at the fat courtier, who – he noted – looked even more disgusting without his makeup.

"You will forgive me, _beyefendi_ Beilschmidt," he murmured in a mocking tone, "It was just a little accident…"

More laughter followed his explanation and Gilbert's frown only grew deeper, his annoyance amplified by the fact that he was in no position to properly respond. _Little accident my ass, you did it on purpose, you fat fuck!_

"Hey, barbarian, you can't bathe with your clothes on!" one of the courtiers shouted at the young Romanian, who looked rather confused and just stood there. "Take them off, take them off!" the others joined.

"They are right, this is unacceptable," Murat intervened, his voice firm this time. "So take them off, _haydi_ _(A/N – come on, Turkish)_! _"_ he ordered.

 _Shit! I should have imagined such a thing would happen!_ A pang of guilt instantly shot through Gilbert's guts and he mentally scolded himself – he should have left Vali to wait for him outside. Damn it!

The strawberry blonde proceeded to remove his garments slowly, without a word, but defiantly meeting Murat's shameless gaze, and he placed them on the edge in a neat pile, which he topped with his small hat. Then he crossed his arms with a stern expression, looking somewhat expectant. The Turk shook his head and sighed, and then walked away with a seemingly indifferent air, to join the other courtiers who had fallen suspiciously silent.

The Prussian quickly dove and fished the soap from the bottom of the basin, where Valentin had dropped it, and started to rub himself hurriedly, with his back turned on the whole scene. As soon as he was finished cleaning himself, the prince grabbed a towel to dry off and threw one to his servant as well, glancing at the Romanian's wet clothes and realizing that Valentin now had nothing left to wear.

"Here, you can take my coat," he grumbled, tossing the garment in his direction.

* * *

"From now on you will bring me hot water in here, because I'm not planning on _ever_ going to that place again!" Gilbert ordered annoyed, as soon as they were back in his room.

Valentin shook his head, pulling a clean shirt on. "That may not be deemed acceptable, _efendi,_ " he stated.

"I couldn't care any less whether it's _deemed acceptable_ or not!" the silver haired young man shouted in response. "I'm sick and tired of this constant humiliation! Didn't you see how they _stared_?" he blurted out unwillingly. He didn't really want his servant to know that such things actually managed to get to him.

"You have no reason to be concerned, _efendi_. In the end, all they can do is stare…"

"Oh really?" Gilbert jumped. "Is that what you think, in view of what has just happened? Oh I beg to differ!"

 _Gah, stop it! Stop it, you idiot!_ The Prussian cursed himself inwardly for his words. Now he'd managed to make himself look like a complete weakling, afraid of some stares and teasing, like… like a damned _girl_ , and in front of his servant no less!

 _No, I must never do that again! How the hell am I supposed to_ handle _him if he thinks I'm a weakling?_

Gilbert knew he'd made a mistake, but he reckoned that it had only been because he had been so alone all this time, with no one to talk to, at least no one who wasn't on _their_ side, and that had made him blurt out so foolishly. He briefly wondered whether Valentin had been made aware of how deep a shit the proud German prince was actually in. Did he know that Administrator Murat had threatened him with a crop, as if he were a miserable slave? He could only hope not.

* * *

" _I-I'm afraid…" Valentin was staring down at his feet with a troubled expression, hugging his upper arms as in a faint attempt to protect his naked body._

 _Gilbert glanced around but there was no one in sight, they were all alone in the_ hammam _. He advanced carefully in the water until he was standing right in front of the Romanian, a bit uncomfortable at the closeness of their unclothed bodies._

" _Of what? Did you not say that all they can do is stare?" he asked gently, placing a comforting hand on the other boy's shoulder._

" _I did but… I'm scared! Please, don't let them hurt me_ efendi _," the strawberry blonde murmured, suddenly leaning and hiding his face in the crook of the prince's neck, sniffing._

" _Shhh… Vali, it's alright, I'm here," the Prussian soothed, "I'll protect you…" He gently lifted his servant's chin and cupped his face with both hands, glancing deep into those gorgeous red orbs that had a pleading look about them._

_On a sudden whim, the silver haired young man slowly lowered and tilted his head until their lips met, shyly at first, but then his tongue slipped out, licking the other's lower lip teasingly, requesting entrance. The servant's lips parted welcomingly, his hot breath already a little laboured, allowing the prince to explore his mouth, hands sliding up to the other's shoulders for support. Gilbert's fingers traced the blonde's spine teasingly, all the way to the small of his back and then further down his backside, enjoying the sensation of the soft, heated skin._

_Soon the tension in both their bodies became evident and, pulling away for breath, the Prussian reached down and grabbed Valentin by the back of his thighs, lifting him up and prompting him to wrap his legs around his waist. He carried them out of the steamy basin and carefully laid the Romanian down onto the warm marble, allowing himself to take in the beauty of his naked form. Taking a deep breath, he then began to plant butterfly kisses on the other boy's forehead, on his flushed cheeks, on those oh-so-soft lips and further down on his exposed neck, in the same time slowly grinding their hips together, craving the friction._

" _Ah…_ efendi _…" Valentin moaned, closing his eyes, slender fingers digging into the prince's muscular back in a silent plea._

" _Gilbert… I want you to call me Gilbert…" the Prussian corrected him, before he bit down on the sensitive, moist neck of the blonde, leaving a red mark on the pale skin._

" _Gilbert… t-take me, take me… now," his servant whispered, in that sensual voice that sent shivers down the silver haired prince's spine, legs wrapping around his waist once more, "I'm already… already…" Before he could finish, the boy on top of him had sheathed himself fully and began to move slowly, not wanting to hurt him but hardly resisting the urge to pound him senseless._

" _M-more… please…nghhh"_

_The Prussian obliged, increasing the speed of his thrusts and causing the blonde to arch his back in pleasure and moan out loud every time he brushed against his sweet spot. It wasn't long before he felt his own climax close and pounded harder, urged by the response of the other's delightful body. He finally came, in the same time as the Romanian called his name out loud, an expression of utter ecstasy on his beautiful face._

"Valentin! Ahhhhh… ah Vali!" Gilbert cried out, riding his orgasm, but then suddenly he was up, eyes wide open and still panting hard, only to realize that he was sitting in his own bed, awkwardly tangled in the sheets. Oh, and his servant had probably heard everything ….

 _OH FUCK!_ He instantly squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in his trembling hands, utter embarrassment washing over him like never before. _Shit! Shit! Shit! Why the hell did I have to have this dream, oh God, why?_


	5. More trouble

_**Warning: there will be some really nasty swearing in this chapter… not for the faint of heart :)))** _

_**Also, I must apologize in advance for any potential translation errors owed entirely to the epic failure that is a certain browser's translation tool…** _

_**A/N - Dictionary at the end of the chapter** _

When Gilbert eventually decided that it was time to face whatever shit he was in and looked up, he had the same surprise like the day before – he was all alone in the small room. Glancing out the window, the prince saw the break of dawn and - despite his obvious relief at the absence of his servant - he cursed, dropping back on the pillows. There were a few things in this world which the Prussian really, really hated, and waking up early was one of them. Back home he had never woken up at the break of dawn, for fuck's sake… _Home…._ But now he wasn't home anymore, Gilbert bitterly reminded himself. He would never be home again.

Suddenly loud noises broke outside his door, brutally interrupting his reverie. Clatter of cutlery and the unmistakable banging and cracking of broken dishes, all laced with yells and a load of swears in what he guessed was a mixture of Turkish and Romanian made him deduct that apparently Valentin was otherwise occupied.

Tossing his covers aside, the silver haired male jumped to his feet and struggled to pull up his trousers which had somehow gotten untied in his sleep. Then he wasted no more time and darted out the door to assess the occurring disaster.

" _Lanet_ _Valah, üstümden!_ _Bırak beni!"_ a small, olive-skinned servant cursed desperately, struggling to shove off the Romanian who had him pinned down to the floor and was pounding him mercilessly with his fists. Yet despite the apparent victory, the strawberry blonde looked like he'd gotten his share as well.

" _Să nu îndrăznesti să mă mai lovesti, futu-ti gatul mă-tii! "_ he swore between pants, sniffing, with a killing glare.

Gilbert was a bit taken aback by how fast the two servants had managed to get themselves so bruised and bloody, and so he suspected that their quarrel had began sometime before they had reached his door. _Fucking hell, irrelevant!_ he thought as he jumped in and got hold of Valentin, immobilizing his arms with some effort, but eventually succeeding to pull him off the other man.

" _Allah, Allah_ , what happened here?" an angry voice suddenly inquired, and the Prussian saw Administrator Murat standing only a few feet away from them, tapping his crop against his palm impatiently. _Oh fuck, this is bad!_ he rapidly concluded, eyes widening in terror. This really was the biggest crap he could get like, first thing in the morning. Ugh!

" _Lütfen efendi, kurtar beni!"_ the smaller man whined, crawling to place trembling lips on the hem of Murat's rich purple robes. " _Bu Valah şeytan hepimizi öldürecek! "_ he cried, but the courtier kicked him off with his foot in disgust.

"Do you mind explaining this to me, _beyefendi_ Beilschmidt?" he then inquired in false sweetness and with a clear hint of menace.

_The fuck?! What did_ I _do? Oh right, I had nothing better to do than stick my nose into this… why couldn't I just pretend that I was still asleep?_ the prince scolded himself inwardly, while wracking his brains in search of some pertinent excuse. Not that he could find any to explain the disaster.

"It was he who-"Valentin began to say, struggling to free his hand from the Prussian's grip to point at the other servant, but without warning Gilbert slammed his fist into his ribs, making him groan in pain.

"Oh, excuse me, _beyefendi,_ it was just _a little accident_ …" the prince finally uttered with a curt bow, unable to restrain sarcasm. Predictably, the Turk's expression changed, and not for the better. His eyes wandered over the mess that tainted the stone floor, and then he leaned down to grab the trembling servant by the collar, only to shove him back to the ground brutally.

" _Sen!_ _Bu pisliği temizlemek, ve siktir git!"_ he ordered harshly, before returning his attention to the two non-believers.

"As for you… I'm sure you remember, _beyefendi_ Beilschmidt, that not so long ago I have explained what will happen if you give me cheek again… Is that not so?" Gilbert's gaze trailed to the crop that was being weighed impatiently in the courtier's hand, and he gripped the Romanian harder, with the sudden urge to tear him to pieces right then and there. He simply nodded, wordless.

"Good then… because you might find out that I am a man of my word…"

Saying that, the Turk spun around on his heels and walked away, leaving a pretty much fear frozen Prussian in his wake.

" _If you ever dare to speak to me like that again, you will be dragged outside and given a beating in front of all the servants!"_ he recalled in horror, as he proceeded to shove Valentin inside his room and slammed the door shut with his foot.

"UGH! I want to tear you to pieces right now! I really feel like killing you on the spot!" the silver haired male yelled, grabbing his servant by the throat.

But the strawberry blonde only snorted. "Then why don't you, _efendi_? Didn't they say that my life belongs to you now? What are you waiting for… take it!" he spat disdainfully. Gilbert fought a sudden irresistible urge to slap him across the face as hard as he could, but the boy already looked like he'd gotten plenty, so he refrained.

"Didn't you tell me – ha, _you_ told me - to fucking _tread carefully_! Honestly, just _WHAT THE FUCK_ were you thinking?" he continued to yell, letting go and stepping away from the other boy. "For fuck's sake, you're a noble, you're educated, how can you behave like a wild animal?! Jumping to beat that pathetic servant! Have you no fucking restraint?"

"Oh, so it isn't enough that I'm being kept here alive against my will and forced to do a slave's work! Now I was supposed to let that damned heathen beat me too?" the Romanian shouted back, clenching his fists.

Gilbert pulled at his own hair, exasperated.

"Well if this is some 'strategic approach' to end your torment, I'll have you know it's _SHIT_! Which part of ' _His fucking Greatness doesn't want you to die_ ' did you not get, you fucking idiot? He won't let you die until you're crawling at his feet, broken, begging to kiss ass! But in the meantime, while you're constantly looking for it, I'm the one who actually gets it! _ME!_ I'm getting it, not _YOU_! Because you were given to me!"

Valentin rolled his eyes blatantly. "You're whining like a woman again! You're a German prince, you know very well that that fat cunt would never touch you!"

The Prussian's hands closed around his throat again, squeezing, and he slammed the servant's back against the wall with all his strength. "Oh is that so? He would never, would he?" he shouted. "When I came here Murat took whatever gold I had, he took all my books, hell he even took most of my clothes! And he said he'd beat me like a dog if I dared open my mouth! I was a prince once, but now am _SHIT_ , that's what I am! And as if that weren't enough, I was supposed to _handle_ you now! Well fuck me, failed miserably at that, haven't I? But you have no right to act like that, like you're _the only one_ who has fucking lost everything!"

He let go and the other boy fell to his knees, gasping for air and clutching his throat. He kept his head low as if suddenly burdened by an infinite sadness and he remained silent.

Gilbert leaned and stuck his index finger under the Romanian's nose. "Just bear this in mind, Valentin – if I get my ass kicked for what you've done today, I'll 'forward' it to you like you've never seen in your whole life!"

* * *

The silver haired male's cheeks were burning with fury and shame as he walked towards the Divan hall, all alone. Surprisingly, he managed to find his way this time without help, maybe precisely because he wasn't thinking much of it, tormented as he was. He found his seat in the Small council, and this time he was lucky enough not to be asked any indiscrete questions.

Today Berker Pasha was presenting his project to build a different type of vessels that could travel faster up rivers and were better designed to carry both troops and horses, which eventually gave rise to quite a debate, but Gilbert found himself incapable to focus on the damned subject. Whatever he did, the pestering thought of Murat's threat came creeping back into his mind to torment him. What if the Administrator was really going to keep his word? _SHIT! How could I possibly endure such humiliation? And the satisfaction it would bring to all these bastards…_ The Prussian felt his knees go weak at the mere thought of the promised punishment.

And things were bad enough even if he'd somehow be let off the hook this time! Hell, he thought with quite the dread, his servant was _some fucking reward,_ maybe Sadiq had known all along what he was doing to him by entrusting him with this prisoner! The idea had probably amused His Greatness to no end… Morosely he had to conclude that Valentin was actually nothing like in his dream – that shy, helpless, fragile looking boy in need of his protection was just that, a fantasy… Well damn, the Romanian was undeniably…um… hot as hell – Gilbert mentally kicked himself for thinking that _yet again –_ but otherwise he was a complete nightmare! Good God, what a madcap!

"Maybe _beyefendi_ Beilschmidt would like to share his opinion as well?"

The question curtly interrupted the Prussian's train of thought and he glanced around, confused and embarrassed. "What?"

"I was saying that I don't really see the need for this farfetched innovation, _beyefendi_ , and our vessels are in no need of improvement," Onur Pasha repeated impatiently, "and I was wondering what your opinion is on this matter?"

The prince cleared his throat, which suddenly felt dry. "Well I… um… " he stuttered uncomfortably, "As we all know, His Greatness has always been a supporter of new ideas… and Berker Pasha's project indeed seems to bring useful improvements… and as such I believe that it should be brought to his attention..."

* * *

The meeting went sort of more smoothly after that, Gilbert struggling more to concentrate on what was being discussed, and so the hours passed rather quickly. Soon the dusk came and one by one the courtiers stood to leave, and the Prussian was slowly but surely gripped by terror once more. He walked out in the hallway half expecting to find Murat's Janissaries waiting to grab him, but to his temporary relief there was only Valentin there.

"So… any news from our _mutual friend_?" the silver haired prince asked casually with a hint of sarcasm as he walked briskly towards his room, not looking at his servant. There was no need for the Romanian to see how scared he really was, in addition to his stupid confession from earlier. Just what the hell had he been thinking to reveal the true dimension of his misery to this nasty piece of work of a person? Now he would never get the upper hand with him, ever!

"None, _efendi_ …" came the whispered reply, and for a while they just walked in silence, until they reached the small room.

"Bring me some dinner, will you?" Gilbert ordered. "And Vali…. maybe not kick anyone's ass in the process?" he suggested, shaking his head.

The servant made himself scarce without a word and the Prussian dropped on his bed, on the edge of his nerves. He wasn't hungry in the least, he just wanted to be alone. His gaze trailed to the small cage near to the window and he suddenly found himself envying the little yellow canary which chirped happily, without a worry.

Soon Valentin returned with a tray of food, which he quietly set on the desk. Gilbert's gaze shot up at his face and he noted something positively striking – the strawberry blonde's face was intact – not a bruise, not a scratch marred the beauty of his features. _What the hell?_ Then he remembered _– when they first brought him here one of the Janissaries broke his nose, and very soon there was no trace of that either… how can this be?_

He frowned, puzzled. "What happened to your face?"

The Romanian avoided his gaze, looking sort of uncomfortable. "What do you mean, _effendi_?"

Gilbert stood and grabbed his chin, tilting it so that his face was fully into the light. "You were quite trashed this morning and now look at you! There is no mark on it! It looks fully healed! How the hell did you do that?"

"Nothing, nothing… I'm a fast healer…" the blonde replied in a low voice, taking a step back as if he was suddenly afraid.

"Not good enough!"

The Prussian wanted to say something more, but the door was swung open without a warning and two Janissaries loomed in the doorway. He gulped, his brow covered in a cold sweat, and took a step forward.

"Not you!" one of them growled. "You! _Haydi_!" he added pointing at Valentin.

**Dictionary:**

_**Lanet** _ _**Valah, üstümden!** _ _**Bırak beni! - Damned Valah, get off me! Let me go!,** _ **(Turkish)**

_**Să nu îndrăznesti să mă mai lovesti, futu-ti gatul mă-tii! - Don't you dare hit me again, fuck your mother's throat!,** _ **(Romanian)**

_**Lütfen efendi, kurtar beni! - Please master, save me!,** _ **(Turkish)**

_**Bu Valah şeytan hepimizi öldürecek! - This Valah devil will kill us all!,** _ **(Turkish)**

_**Sen!** _ _**Bu pisliği temizlemek, ve siktir git! – You! Clean up this mess and fuck off!,** _ **(Turkish)**

_**Haydi! – Come on!** _ _**,** _ **(Turkish)**


	6. Favors and secrets

_**Warning: this chapter will contain some explicit description of substance abuse… so don't try this at home kids, or anywhere else for that matter :))))** _

_**A/N - Again, it is very likely in the case of some non-English phrases hereby included, that I have been royally f***d by** _ _**the epic failure that is a certain browser's translation tool… So I'm sorry…** _

Two days and two nights passed quietly for the Prussian prince without any news of his servant. A new nameless Turkish servant now brought him breakfast and dinner and accompanied him around the palace, wherever he needed to go. And nobody said anything, nobody asked any questions. It wasn't that Gilbert had really taken to caring about the troublesome Romanian and was worried about him or anything – Valentin had only brought whatever his unfortunate fate had been upon himself with his reckless behavior, but he found this bizarre silence surrounding the subject at least suspicious.

On the third day however, at dinnertime, the servant walked into his room with the usual tray of food, but he wasn't alone. Gilbert noted that _beyefendi_ Sümbül, one of Murat's most trusted assistants was with him, and his stomach jolted in panic. Yet while the servant arranged the food on the small desk, the Turk just stood there, without a word, looking somewhat expectant.

"Is there something I can do for you, _beyefendi_ Sümbül?" he asked tentatively, his voice cracking a tiny bit. The Prussian hoped with all his heart that Murat, most likely having had his way with the rebellious blonde, had forgotten about his 'promise'.

Something seemed to lighten up on Sümbül's fox like features, and his lips curled into an almost imperceptible smile. "Actually, I had thought quite the other way around, _beyefendi…_ Maybe there is something that I could do for _you_?"

"Do you know where my servant is?" the silver haired prince asked, words slipping past his lips absent thought. In all truth, he had no idea where the damned question had sprung from, what dark depths of his mind could harbor such dangerous curiosity. For it was clear that as much as asking could prove to be a very bad idea. In his position the last thing he should have done was to stick his nose where it didn't belong and to stir the shit further.

_Just when I should probably feel relieved that he's gone, I had nothing better to do than ask this! Gah, stupid! Stupid! What the hell was I thinking?_

"I mean to say… I was just wondering…" he added weakly, trying to sound indifferent. "Of course if that is…"

"Well it is possible, if that is what you were wondering, _beyefendi_ Beilschmidt," the Turk replied with a cunning air, as soon as the servant had left, "But, of course, it would cost you…" he added with a bow.

" _Beyefendi_ Sümbül, I'm afraid you misunderstood. I was just asking casually, without intention of investigating the matter… As for the cost of it, I'm sure that a man as informed as yourself knows only too well that I am not possessed of such means," Gilbert pointed with a hint of annoyance.

"On the contrary, my prince, I am inclined to believe you are… Not money, but you would owe me a tiny little favor…"

The Prussian frowned, hand flying up to pinch the bridge of his nose. _Good God, how can I even consider this? Have I lost my mind? "_ What kind of favor do you speak of, _beyefendi_ Sümbül?" he asked nevertheless.

Murat's assistant drew a deep breath and sighed, shaking his head. "That I do not know… for now I am not in need of your help, _beyefendi_ , but time might come when I shall be… "He paused, observing the prince's reluctance. "All I need is your promise that when I ask, you will show benevolence towards my humble request…"

Wordlessly, the silver haired male nodded.

"Very well then, come with me…"

* * *

The Prussian followed Sümbül down several corridors, until they approached one of the areas of Topkapi which he clearly knew it was restricted to very few of the courtiers. In the back of his mind there lingered a silent warning that he was doing something wrong, very wrong, that maybe he was being drawn into a trap by Murat's servant in that very moment, but now it was just too late to turn back.

The agile assistant led the way into a large luxurious garden that was sunken in darkness, some palm tree shapes barely visible in the pale moonlight. They advanced silently towards the far side, where Sümbül stopped in front of a wooden panel doubled by a grate, beyond which there appeared to be a small living room. The panel was so placed that it did not entirely shield the place from outside view, and they both crouched down on the cobblestone, peeking in.

The first thing Gilbert noted about the dim lit room was the white smoke floating around, its elusive fingers creeping through the wooden grate and reaching his nostrils. It was a strange and powerful mixture, a foreign flavor that instantly made him feel a bit lightheaded.

"What is this smoke? It smells funny," he inquired in no more than a whisper, as he shifted his angle, trying to get a better view of what was inside.

"It is a mixture of ingredients, but mainly opium, _beyefendi_ ," Sümbül explained calmly, "Good for many things…"

The man's words only faintly reached the Prussian's ears, as his gaze focused on the scene he peeked at. He saw Valentin lying on a low sofa with his eyes closed, one hand hanging limply over the rim. His shirt was creased and torn, his hair ruffled, and he seemed to be pretty much trashed again, even if wasn't downright obvious. There were a few barely noticeable traces of whiplashes on one partially exposed shoulder and on the crook of his neck, on what could be seen of his arms and Gilbert guessed there must have been many more hidden by the shirt. Fatigue was visible all over his features, his already unusual pallor only emphasized by the dim candle light.

The silver haired prince watched in somewhat of a fascination as the blonde's other hand moved lazily and brought the mouthpiece of a _nargile_ _(A/N - hookah, Turkish)_ to his lips to take a drag and inhale. The powerful flavor was already taking its toll on the Prussian, who blinked repeatedly and shook his slightly spinning head, eyes trained on the soft clouds of smoke blown upwards by those perfect lips.

But then his attention was suddenly drawn by the sight of long and slender, olive-skinned fingers tracing up the Romanian's hanging arm. Gilbert frowned, his own fingers involuntarily gripping the grate. The hand touching his servant looked strong yet gentle, like the hand of a fairly young man, and it was not covered in disgusting make-up powder. It clearly wasn't Murat's hand.

" _Sana ne oldu bak"_ an equally gentle voice spoke, making the prince jump at the sudden sound, all the more since he could not see its possessor. But he guessed it was the same man whose hand now slowly crept up Valentin's shoulder. _"Kalbim kanıyor"_

There was a rustle of fabric as the man moved closer, but he still remained hidden from view. " _Neden bana seni cezalandırmak için kuvvet?_ _Acın benim acım._ _Niye_ _seni sevmeme_ _izin vermiyorsun?"_

The Romanian took another long drag, heedless of the Turk's touch, letting the flavored smoke slip between his parted lips. The olive-skinned hand moved up to brush a few golden strands away from Valentin's forehead, ever-so-gently, in a tender caress.

" _Babam hakkında konuşmak için kullanılır, ve annen hakkında. Seni cesur olacağını biliyordu… Ama inatçı, sen de gurur olurdu biliyordu…"_ The man sighed softly before he went on. " _Ben_ _düşündüm … babam hiçbir şey bilmiyordu. Seni beni sevmeni sağlayacak söz verdim_ "

Then he leaned forward, and Gilbert froze recognizing the face that was partially covered by a silk mask. Lips were pressed softly against the blonde's cheek, lingering there for a short while, before trailing down towards his exposed neck. The Prussian felt something very close to a stab in his chest at the sight – this was something he should never have seen, because it was wrong… and because it pained him…

But without a warning Valentin's eyes opened fully and he dropped the _nargile_ , struggling to sit up. His arm moved harshly to push the man off him, shrugging away from his touch with a grimace.

" _Niciodata!"_ he tried to shout, but his voice came out faint, drowsy. _" N-o sa te iubesc niciodata! Ai distrus tot ce-mi era drag, mi-ai luat totul! Tu nu poti sa iubesti, asa cum nu putea nici tatal tau… Inima ta e goala… Iar mie mi-e rusine cu sangele tau impur…"_

"What did he say?" Gilbert understood Turkish fairly well, but not the Romanian words. He looked expectant towards assistant Sümbül, and saw him stiffen awkwardly.

"Never, he said," the Turk translated reluctantly, "I will never love you! You have destroyed everything that was dear to me, you have taken everything from me! You cannot love, just like your father couldn't… Your heart is empty, and I am ashamed of your impure blood…"

The Prussian looked again, only to see Valentin curled up into a tight ball, with his back turned on Sadiq, who simply sat there shaking his head, a hint of sorrow on his partially concealed features. They had fallen silent, and Sümbül pulled his sleeve, urging him to stand up.

"Come now, _beyefendi_ , it is time to leave!"

* * *

It was only when he had stood to leave that Gilbert had experienced the full extent of his dizziness. He'd retained very little memory of how he had managed back to his own room, guided by Murat's assistant. Just before dropping onto his bed, fully clothed, he had been under the vague impression that Gilbird had openly called him an idiot. Then his eyelids had fallen shut and he had been engulfed by darkness. Yet his sleep had not been heavy – at some point during the night the door had creaked open and light steps had stumbled in, followed by a dull thud – and he had muttered some unintelligible profanities, or at least had intended to.

Checking his clock, the Prussian cursed in the usual fashion, wishing he could have slept more. But it was already very late and, even if he had no meetings that day, an impressive pile of papers waited on his desk. He swung his feet over the edge of his pathetic excuse of a bed, swearing some more as he observed the state of his clothes. His eyes fell on the slumbering form lying onto the makeshift blanket bed on the other side of his room and it became clear why there was no breakfast on his desk – his 'favorite' servant had returned, but he was fast asleep.

_Just great! If this isn't the last thing I needed!_

Furthermore, Gilbert also remembered the fact that he now owned Sümbül a favor, just for… just for what exactly? He instantly felt the urge to slap himself, and slap hard.

_**Dictionary:** _

**Sana ne oldu bak – Look what happened to you, (Turkish)**

**Kalbim kanıyor – My heart is bleeding, (Turkish)**

**Neden bana seni cezalandırmak için kuvvet?** **Acın benim acım.** **Niye** **seni sevmeme** **izin vermiyorsun?** **– Why do you force me to punish you? Your pain is my pain.** **Why don't you let me love you?** _**,** _ **(Turkish)**

**Babam hakkında konuşmak için kullanılır, ve annen hakkında. Seni cesur olacağını biliyordu… Ama inatçı, sen de gurur olurdu biliyordu – My father used to speak about you, and about your mother. He knew that you would be brave… but he also knew that you would be proud, unyielding…, (Turkish)**

**Ben düşündüm … babam hiçbir şey bilmiyordu.** **Seni beni sevmeni sağlayacak söz verdim - I thought…my father knew nothing. I promised myself that I will make you love me, (Turkish)**


	7. Bad news

Toiling on an empty stomach only added to the Prussian's ill-humor, but he could not afford to sit around and sulk, neglecting his work. At noon his newly returned servant was still sleeping like a rock – despite Gilbert's efforts to wake him, he was out cold. He would stir and moan from time to time, but the narcotic induced slumber did not allow him to regain consciousness.

After his last failed attempt, the prince returned sighing to reading a long, tedious treaty which the Advisory Council had prepared for the troublesome queen Elizaveta Héderváry of Hungary. Long before he was sent to the Sultan's court, Gilbert had been supposed to betroth the Hungarian, and he still remembered her as a sweet, fragile and gracious looking girl, with long chestnut hair and bright green eyes filled with joy and laughter. But that had been before her father had died and queen Elizaveta had decided to stop paying tribute to the Ottomans and to threaten that her (actually barely a handful of) knights would wipe Sultan Sadiq off the face of the Earth if she so pleased. Another crack-brain for sure, that one!

 _In the end I was lucky for not marrying her, only God knows what kind of shit that insane woman would have dragged me in! Mein Gott, danke! And it's not much of a surprise that she is still not married today…_ Eventually the Prussian was left to conclude that he must have been utterly star-crossed from the beginning, seeing how his fate would have resulted in doom either way.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Gilbert was torn from his concentration when the Romanian sat up abruptly, covering his mouth with both hands with a grimace. He struggled to stand up and darted out the door before the prince got the chance to say anything. When he eventually returned, sometime later, he was even paler – if that was possible for his complexion - trembling and pulling his coat around him as if he were cold.

"You have a problem, _efendi_ ," the strawberry blonde said in a grave tone, sniffing and wiping his nose awkwardly.

Gilbert snorted and tossed away the scroll, genuinely not knowing whether he should laugh or get angry. "Oh, do I?" He slowly stood up from his chair and took a step forward, towards the servant who had remained still, with his back stuck on the closed door. " _I_ have a problem?"

Valentin nodded slowly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, crossing his arms and overall looking uncomfortable.

"Ha, look who's talking! You laid here like a dead thing for almost a day and a night and _I_ have a problem? Just look at the state of you! Where the fuck have you been all this time?" the prince questioned. "And what the fuck happened to you?"

"Um… "The Romanian glanced around the room a bit confused, gaze trailing to the papers on Gilbert's desk. "I-I'm sorry I overslept, _efendi,_ I haven't been feeling too well… But don't you have to be somewhere at this hour or…?"

The Prussian shook his head with a grin. "Well, what do you know, I don't have to be anywhere today! And so I have decided that you and I will have a little talk, and you're going to answer all my questions, yeah?" Sitting on the bed, he patted the place next to him impatiently. As Valentin didn't budge, he yanked his hand a bit forcefully and pulled him down to sit.

"So… you can start with what happened before you smoked opium and got yourself stoned out of your mind…" the silver haired male suggested in a calm voice, inspecting the other boy's features.

The servant flinched, surprised and obviously troubled by his words, and cleared his throat. "Well… Administrator Murat… he-"

"Did he beat you?" the Prussian interrupted.

"Yes, but…" He hesitated again, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear and avoiding the other's gaze.

"But what?"

"I mean he didn't… beat me for _that,_ for hitting that servant. He had questions, _efendi_ … about you, and when I didn't-"

Gilbert's brow twisted into a frown. "What? What kind of questions did Administrator Murat have about me?" he asked, the old fear beginning to creep on him slowly but surely. He had a vague feeling that he didn't really want to hear the answer.

"Well, _efendi_ … He wants to know if you have made any friends here and who they are… Does anyone visit you? Do you leave your room at night? Which courtiers do you talk to most often?"

" _WHAT_? He asked if I made any _friends_?!" the prince jumped. "Who the hell could I possibly be friends here, at the enemy's court?"

The Romanian shrugged. "Also, he asked, do you receive any gifts – _bahşiş (A/N – bribe, Turkish)_? Do you have any money or anything of value hidden anywhere? Do you favor anyone?"

_Fucking hell! Why the hell is Murat investigating me? I've never done any of the things he suspects, and he's already taken everything I had… And just awesome, he has sent Valentin to spy on me, thinking that I'll confide in him just because he's not one of them…_

But Valentin already had the answer to his unspoken question. _"Efendi_ , I think you should know that, before you arrived here, Administrator Murat had paid a lot of _bahşiş_ in 'all the right places' in the hope of obtaining a position in the Advisory Council. But then the Sultan gave you this job and all his efforts have proven to be in vain" he said, interrupting his musings.

This time, Gilbert's eyes widened in terror. _Oh fucking hell, this is very bad!_ _That surely explains why he has a problem with me!_

"And then he beat me because I couldn't answer his questions, but what do I know?" the blonde went on. "So he says to me – kill the fucking Prussian and I will help you escape from this place. It's easy, wait until he falls asleep and then kill him with his own sword…" Valentin said fidgeting.

"W-what..?" All air was knocked out of the silver haired prince's chest upon hearing these words. "He has asked you to… _kill me_?" He had the impression that the Romanian scooted a bit farther away from him before answering, in the same almost murmured voice.

"It would be most convenient for them, _effendi_ … I am the only one who can do it without arousing suspicion, since I'm supposed to be one insane Valah and all… Besides, what better way to get rid of us both? Because the Sultan _would_ have my head for this…"

Gilbert stood up abruptly and ran a hand through his hair, beginning to pace back and forth. "But… "he whispered, numbed by horror, "He cannot ask that of you! We should be able to… I don't know… tell someone about this?"

The strawberry blonde snorted, shaking his head. "Like what, make a complaint? And to whom? We are surrounded by enemies, who would give a damn that the two _non-believers_ have decided to slaughter one another? Do not delude yourself, _effendi_ – there is no one on our side here, no one! Not to mention, even if they did listen, it would be the word of a _non-believer_ against Administrator Murat's word… "

The prince suddenly stopped and glanced down at his servant, recalling the events of the previous night. "What about the Sultan himself? I have heard what he said to you last night, when you were smoking opium. It seemed to me that he harbors certain… affection for you?" The Prussian found himself wondering if maybe he shouldn't have said that, because Valentin instantly frowned, staring at the floor and looking positively upset.

"I could have done without _affection_ such as his!"

"Are you sure? With all the mischief you have been doing ever since you were brought here? I doubt it… " _Well, not that he really got away with it…_

Gilbert dropped back down on the edge of his bed and scrubbed a hand over his face, tired. "Look Vali… it's not that I meant to stick my nose where it clearly doesn't belong, but… ever since you were brought to me I've been trying to figure out why, what is the purpose of this, because I suspected it to be something tricky… Well, now I know, sort of, but these last two days… Anyway, last night _beyefendi_ Sümbül offered to give some information… Bottom line, I saw you with the Sultan. And the way he was touching you, the sound of his voice, and his words… it all had something… I don't know…" he trailed off, a bit embarrassed.

There was a long awkward silence before Valentin made up his mind to speak. "It's not what you think… what it looked like last night," he sighed with a grimace, this time seeming more sorrowful than uncomfortable."He doesn't want me that way. We're… well it's a long story but we're related. He's my… relative, yeah"

" _Relative_?" Now the Prussian was baffled. "Sultan Sadiq is your relative? Like… you're _family_? But… I mean he really seemed to want something else… When he said that he wants to make you love him…?"

The Romanian tsked. " _Efendi_ , blood alone doesn't make someone your _family_! And yes, he… acts strangely upon it, to say the least, but you will agree that it's just as perverted as everything else he does… Anyway, he plundered my country and my people is now under his boot, I don't see how he could have fucked me any worse than this," he concluded morosely.

"I'm sorry…"

Gilbert said nothing more in reply. Everything was just fucked up beyond belief, at least as far as he was concerned. He struggled to clear his head and put some order into his thoughts, even though it was quite a lot to process all the sudden. But what the servant had said made sense – Murat would never have made a move against him himself, or use any of his men to the purpose - it was too dangerous, His Greatness would most cruelly punish those who were to mess with his external politics, but the 'story of the crazy Romanian servant' would fit perfectly…. And it would be no one's fault…

"So what answer did you give Murat?" he asked eagerly. "I assume he must have demanded one"

The other boy shrugged. "Well, I could not tell him 'yes'… and it was rather a bad time to tell him 'no', so I just said that I'll think about it. At least he will wait… and not expect any immediate results"

The Prussian buried his face in his hands. _This has to be the worst shit ever! But at least… I know Valentin is not thinking of doing it. Otherwise he wouldn't have told me the truth… No, he's one hell of a troublemaker, but he's not a murderer who would stab someone in the back…_

"You will have to kill me… you can say I attacked you, tried to murder you in your sleep, as suggested" Valentin said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

" _WHAT_?" the prince shouted, jumping from his seat, lunging forward and gripping the blonde's shoulders. "H-how can you say such a thing? How would you even think me capable of something like this? _What do you think I am_?"

The servant didn't answer. He just hung his head, looking pale and sick, his eyes threatening to close any moment.

 _Yeah, he's a strong fighter, but he is young and he's been through a lot already… And it's eventually gotten to him, despite the tough front he's putting up… Even now he's not well, that must be the drug talking, making him let out his despair…_ Gilbert thought. So maybe his dream hadn't been so farfetched after all, maybe Valentin was indeed vulnerable and in need of help, of protection – _his protection_. Sadly it so happened that currently the Prussian could not even help himself, let alone someone else…


	8. Drawing blood

"Sit down" Gilbert pointed at the chair next to his desk as his servant laid the breakfast tray in front of him. He sat up on his bed and fought back a smile, seeing how the blonde was obviously still half asleep. This time he'd been up long enough to notice with how much effort the other boy had dragged himself out of bed. _Serves him right for smoking that shit, and maybe he's done it again yesterday, when I wasn't around…_

"Here, eat something. You look like hell," the Prussian commented. "And while you do, I'll tell you all about my plan"

"You have a plan, _efendi_?" the Romanian asked, his voice drowsy, as he reluctantly reached for a piece of bread. "So soon?"

"It's been two days already and- owwww damn it!" the silver haired male replied, fumbling with the coffee kettle and succeeding in burning himself yet again. "Anyway, Murat will press on the matter. It is not unlikely that as soon as I'm off to the Divan today, he will show his fat fuck face in here, or catch up with you, and he will want an answer"

"What do you want me to tell him?"

Gilbert took a deep breath. He wasn't sure if this was such a good idea, but seeing how it was the _only_ idea… "You will tell him that the answer is yes. You have even tried it, just as he had suggested, but unfortunately your efforts have remained fruitless. Tell him that I keep my sword tucked safely under my mattress at night and that I am a light sleeper. Once you even managed to wake me up while you were trying to creep up on me and I was very angry…"

"I don't think this answer will please him," Valentin stated dryly.

"Well no, of course not, but you will apologize for being such a clumsy fool so far and you will promise him that you shall try again, as soon as opportunity presents itself. I know it sounds rather vague and of unknown deadline, but seeing how he is unwilling to offer any help to you to this purpose, he will have to wait"

"Very well, _efendi_ ," the Romanian agreed with a slow nod, "I will tell him as you instructed"

Gilbert stood up and gathered his scrolls for the day. "Oh and don't worry, opportunity will present itself later today, and luckily the Administrator Murat will be there to witness it," he said hopefully.

"Wait… what? Today?"

"Yes! Now arrange my papers and take care of this mess," the prince ordered, pointing at the desk and then at the dirty clothing scattered pretty much everywhere around the small room, "and then make sure you get some more rest. You'll need it!"

As he stepped out to leave the Prussian cast a last fugitive glance towards his room, just in time to see his servant collapsing back onto his makeshift bed, face down. He sighed and shook his head.

* * *

Again the Divan meeting passed by without Gilbert paying much attention to it. The Sultan's latest ambition was the isle of Rhodos, currently occupied by the Ioanite knights, the stronghold of which his father had failed to conquer on several occasions. Such an endeavor was a cause for worry for the whole of Europe, but as usual the Prussian found himself having other, more pressing problems. He was restless, positively nervous about how the whole damned thing would unfold, and could only hope that everything would go according to plan.

The end of the meeting only made things worse and his palms were already sweating as he went out to meet his servant.

* * *

"Where are we going, _efendi_?" Valentin asked. He seemed a tad suspicious, or maybe that had only been the Prussian's impression. _But why would he not be? Who am I for him to trust anyway, just another non-believer? It means nothing…_

"You'll see," Gilbert answered blandly, pushing the large double doors open.

"This is the main hall of arms, sort of" he hurried to explain, although the Romanian had not asked anything more. "Courtiers come here to practice and to keep themselves in shape in their free time. And since I've been given this privilege too, I thought I might just as well use it"

The strawberry blonde's eyes wandered around the large stone paved courtyard and at the numerous weaponry, shields and armors on display on the hanging panels. He walked to the middle of the open space and stopped there, crossing his arms with an unreadable expression.

"I've been told that the weapons here were brought from all corners of the Ottoman empire… so I guess, yeah, it's supposed to be rather intimidating…" the prince added as he too advanced, glancing casually towards the large stone balcony which surrounded the practice area.

Most of the times, while some courtiers came for practice, others came to watch from above, but now there was no one else on the grounds and he only spotted two older men having a quiet talk in the balcony at the other end of the yard. Well, if it was true that Administrator Murat came here often, as Sümbül had said, and that he really kept an eye on the _non-believer_ prince all the time, he would show up sooner or later… And this time Gilbert hoped that he would.

"Right, so the plan is as follows," the Prussian began to explain, drawing closer to his expectant servant, who was currently staring at his boots, bored. "Like I said earlier, seeing how you have failed until now, you will try to kill me again today"

Valentin's gaze shot up, suddenly alert. "What? When…?"

"Now. I want you to spar with me – you can do that, can't you?" The silver haired male drew out his sword and pointed towards the panels. "Go pick up a weapon. Any weapon you want, I don't mind," he added with a brief grin.

"But I'm supposed to _assassinate_ you… in a discreet way, sort of…" The blonde frowned. "You don't know much about assassins, do you _efendi_? I mean, if I presumably failed to sneak up on you while you were asleep, why-"

"Exactly!" the Prussian interrupted. "Let's say that whenever I know myself to be vulnerable, I'm cautious – I keep my sword near, my sleep is light… But a man awake and with sword in hand has all reasons to feel secure, all the more since it's just practice… And it would be good for you as well, because you could always claim that it was an accident"

Somehow, the servant did not look very convinced by his arguments, and he turned unsurely to glance towards the panels behind him. "I'm not saying it's a bad idea, _efendi_ , but why would Murat believe it? Especially since it will once more fail to deliver the desired result? He might just as well say that I have not tried anything and that I've been lying the whole time…"

"Not if his fat ass will be here to see for himself he won't. Yes, the whole show will have to look convincing to him, but I don't see why he would not buy it… What I want is for him to get the idea that I'm too sharp and too strong for you to kill, and then he will have no choice but to drop it!" he concluded.

The Romanian blinked, a bit puzzled, and he seemed about to say something, only to refrain in the last moment.

"So… you're not afraid, are you?" Gilbert couldn't help teasing, a smirk widening on his lips. "Look, I know I'm stronger than you, but I promise not to hurt you… too bad"

Valentin turned his back on him abruptly and walked determined towards the weapons panels. He didn't take long before deciding on two light swords. The strawberry blonde weighed them each in his hands, and then gave them both a full spin in the same time, before facing his opponent with a blunt expression.

 _Not that scared, is he…_ the prince pondered. _Now I'll see how good the 'Valah devil' really is… but first I should act like everyone expects of a prince such as myself – an arrogant and annoying brat. So let's step on his nerves a little bit before we begin…_

"Wielding two swords, huh? Impressive, but you know, someone might wonder if you're not trying to compensate for something…" he stated with a dark chuckle.

The Romanian sighed. "Yet your sword is both longer and broader, _efendi_ …" he replied, examining his own blades thoughtfully.

 _Gah! Wait and see how I'll teach you a lesson, you little … "_ Alright, enough with the small talk,"Gilbert said grinning again. "Ready when you are"

The sword was weighed impatiently in the Prussian's hand as they began circling each other carefully, his eyes trained on the movements of his opponent. Predictably, the blonde had chosen light weapons because most likely he wasn't very strong, so his advantage had to be speed, he pondered. And the two swords were probably meant to confuse and distract, two blades were harder to follow than just one.

"It seems that the fat…um... I mean Administrator Murat has arrived, _efendi_ …" Valentin said, stopping and taking a deep bow, and Gilbert turned, his gaze scrutinizing the balcony above. Indeed the Turk was there, in the company of another two courtiers he didn't know, leaning casually over the railing. He bowed briefly too and Murat responded with a small nod. But then the man's fake smile widened almost inconspicuously, and the prince turned around swiftly, away from him, the instinctively raised blade clashing against the Romanian's.

"You fucking cheater!" he shouted, slamming into the other boy with all his strength, pushing him backwards and advancing to attack.

Valentin kept drawing back, blocking his blows, but avoided being cornered into the wall in the last moment. He spun rapidly to the side, both blades following his movement and a loud hiss erupted from the spectators, making the Prussian aware that their sparring had attracted quite some audience. As the blonde moved away towards the center of the yard, he felt a sudden burning in his upper arm, and glanced down to see blood oozing from a cut in his sleeve.

"Fucking little bastard, you're going to pay for this!" Gilbert cursed under his breath, setting in pursuit. He caught up with his servant and pounded on him mercilessly several times, leaving him no opportunity to strike back, until their swords were once more clashed together, stuck. They pressed against each other, with gritted teeth, neither yielding, until the Prussian pushed Valentin with his boot, causing him to stumble backwards and drop one of his swords. After another failed attempt to push Gilbert away, he only retreated slowly, until he was backed against the wall.

 _Now he knows that he can't win this and wants to surrender but I'll be damned if I let him get away with it so easily!_ The prince clashed their swords again, slowly managing to push the blades towards the Romanian's throat, as the other boy's strength was beginning to leave him.

"You must do it now, _efendi_ ," the strawberry blonde suddenly whispered, white in the face, but Gilbert did not understand until it was too late. The servant dropped his sword without warning, causing the other's blade to slide and thrust in full. The sword pierced him just below his collarbone and he slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a scream. The Prussian's eyes widened in horror at the sight as he swiftly pulled out the now bloodied blade from his body and tossed it aside.

" _NO! NO! VALENTIN! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?_ " he yelled, catching the Romanian as he was slumping towards the ground. The prince scooped him up in his arms and carried him hurriedly towards the exit, ignoring the stir that had broken out among the spectators.

* * *

"Lay him down over here, on this table," the chief doctor instructed and Gilbert complied, helping him to discard the blonde's blood soaked coat and shirt. He had tried to keep the wound pressed as much as he could on the way to the doctor's quarters, and now his hands were full of blood as well.

"My hands are _full of blood_ …" he murmured out loud, staring down at them, still in disbelief.

" _Allah, Allah!_ Are you alright, _beyefendi_?" The prince turned around to see Administrator Murat standing in the doorway. "You were lucky to get only that minor wound, the Valah devil was determined to put an end to your days!" he added with fake concern, pointing to the injured arm the Prussian had completely forgotten about. "Let us be thankful to _Allah_ for giving you the upper hand in this fight!"

The prince bowed without a word, a conversation with this man being the last thing he currently needed. But the Turk, obviously displeased by the result of his machinations, was determined to pester him and was about to say something more, when suddenly a copper bowl was launched in the direction of his head, barely missing him in its flight.

" _GO TO HELL YOU FAT FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!_ " the Romanian shouted, already looking for another object to throw at him.

"Vali, stop it! Stop it!" Gilbert pleaded, struggling to hold him down. "You must stay still or you'll lose even more blood!"

" _Allah, Allah_ , what plague you have sent on our heads!" Murat lamented, but, much to everyone's relief, eventually decided to make himself scarce.

" _Beyefendi_ , help me give him this to drink, it will make him sleep in no time," the doctor said, bringing a cup filled with some greenish, eerie looking liquid. "I need to take a look at his wound now and he needs to rest…"

"I don't want to drink anything!" Valentin shouted stubborn, still struggling against the Prussian's grip. "Just let me… let me… ahh…" he groaned in pain.

_Nothing ever goes smoothly with you, does it…?_

"I can't take this anymore, I don't want to-" His words were cut short when, without a warning, Gilbert pressed his lips against his.


	9. Confession

Gilbert sighed, staring at the last sunrays playing into Gilbird's golden feathers. The little canary certainly seemed to enjoy the crumbles left from his dinner way more than he'd done. But in turn he was really lucky for having been allowed to keep him. And just as he was watching his little bird, the truth hit him like a slap in the face.

 _Murat is a very powerful man, he has a lot of influence…_ _And I've been here for more than six months already_ , _if he had truly wanted me dead_ , _he would surely have found a way…_ _But that's not what he wants, they don't want me dead, they want me to yield, just like they do all their enemies... All this time I thought that I was keeping my end of the deal, that I'm obeying and serving the Sultan, and_ that was _the deal, but they're not happy with it, are they? I still think of myself as Prussian, I still wear my old clothes and this…_

His fingers found the chain that held the silver cross around his neck and he gave it a tug, thoughtfully.

_No, even though I knew from the start that this is it, that I was given to them for life, I've never thought of converting, of taking one of their women as my wife, of making a life for myself here… No… Now I see that I always acted like it was only temporary, like sooner or later I would escape this place, and go back home… And from the start they have been trying to break me, to make me yield – all the threats, all the humiliation, and now Valentin – he was given to me so that we can break each other, so that we can both lose hope, and as long as they keep turning us against one another, so that both of us feel entirely alone and surrounded by enemies, they think that it will work eventually…_

And that wasn't so hard, he pondered. Valentin was in even a more precarious position than him, since he was a loathed prisoner of war and not part of any political agreement, and Murat could put all the strain he wanted on the boy to set him against his new master. As for the prince, well, his servant seemed to be a 'natural' when it came to being an outstanding pain in the ass, such that despite whatever obvious or less obvious qualities he had, he wasn't particularly hard to dislike. _Even though he was ready to lay down his life…and even though I have kissed him…_

He stared down at his hands, recalling how thoroughly he'd scrubbed to wash away all the blood. _And the guilt… I should have been more careful, I should have known from the beginning that he was only trying to make me angry, to make me strike him down._ And he couldn't shake off the feeling that the blood had found its way even into the finest creases of skin, had sunken into his pores, and mingled with his own. _What have you done to me, Valentin?_

* * *

Restless, the Prussian tossed away his covers and sat up, running a hand through disheveled hair. Deciding on what he wanted to do, he stood up and straightened his clothes, then threw the black velvet coat casually over his shoulders. The prince knew that most likely he shouldn't wander around the palace at night and unaccompanied, but hell, they could not prove he was up to anything wrong.

The door to the doctor's quarters was unlocked and he walked right in, making as little noise as possible. Gilbert found his way into the room where they'd put Valentin in bed after dressing his wound, and by the loud snoring that resounded from the adjacent room, separated by another closed door, he guessed that the old doctor must have been sleeping in there. But the bed which he was currently glancing upon was empty, and he frowned in confusion. The prince sat down, patting the sheets lost in thought, and noticed that they were warm, as if someone had just left them.

_But it's barely been two days, and he should be in bed, resting…_

Suddenly his attention was drawn by light footsteps approaching almost without a sound and he lifted his gaze, only to discover his servant sneaking back into the room on his tiptoes.

"Where have you been?" he asked, in a low voice, but still taking the Romanian by surprise and making him flinch visibly before he stopped, frozen. "Come here"

"Um…" Valentin hesitated, and again he looked like he was afraid of something, as if he'd just been caught doing something wrong. _Just like he did when I asked him how come he'd healed so fast…_

Gilbert stood from the bed and looked at him carefully, a slight frown lingering on his brow. The strawberry blonde was barefoot and only in his trousers, and his hair was ruffled and had a few bits of something white tangled in it. As the Prussian drew closer, he quickly licked his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"There's a terrace out there from where you can see the sea and I needed some fresh air…" he whispered, avoiding the other's gaze.

"Mhmmm…what's this?" the prince asked, fishing one of the white things tangled in a strand of hair – it turned out to be a small, soft feather. He pulled his hand away, dropping the feather onto the floor and saw that the tips of his fingers were sticky, smeared with something dark, which looked like… _blood_?

"Valentin!" he hissed, fighting hard to restrain his voice as to not wake up the doctor sleeping nearby, panic coursing through him and making him grip the blonde's shoulders, heedless of his own fingers now digging quite close to the bandaged area. "What _the hell_ did you do? Answer me now!"

The Romanian tried to pull back, but Gilbert refused to let go. "I'm sorry, _efendi_ , I cannot tell you-"

" _YOU CAN AND YOU WILL!_ " the Prussian growled angrily, tightening his grip. Valentin bit his lower lip, uncomfortable. "I needed…"

The prince snorted. "You needed what? Fresh air? You said that before!"

"No, blood…" came the whispered reply. "I was feeling bad, I was in pain…" Gilbert blinked a few times and stared as if dumbstruck. "You needed _what_?"

The blonde fidgeted nervously. "Yes… it's a sort of… magic medicine. It helps me heal faster… And there are a lot of pigeons out there, on the terrace, and all over the palace gardens, but they are so many that I don't think anyone will notice a few missing birds…"

"That's just the fuckest explanation I've ever heard!" the silver haired male jumped. "Like hell you _needed_ _blood_! What did you do with it, huh? I don't see anything in your hands! You didn't _drink_ it, did you?"

The blonde didn't answer this time, he simply stood there, looking appalled. Without a warning, the Prussian took a step forward and lifted his chin with two fingers, then crushed their mouths together. And so he discovered without much investigation that yes, the slightly salty, metallic taste was there, on Valentin's lips, proof of him telling the truth. _Fucking hell!_ The prince fought back a shudder.

"Well… I've got to say that's one sinister… superstition, if you ask me…" he concluded, pulling away and walking back to sit down on the bed.

"Why did you do that _efendi_ , again?"

 _Well, good question!_ Gilbert thought. _Tonight is the second time I've found some excuse to kiss him… "_ Guess what," he replied instead, with a grin, "seeing how rough stuff apparently doesn't work with you, I was thinking that maybe this does… After all, it did make you shut up and let the doctor examine you last time… now come, you must get back to bed"

The Romanian complied reluctantly, but slipped under the covers without protest.

"Anyway, I just wanted to see how you were… and since you're awake I must tell you something that I've only realised in these past two days – I think Murat has lied to you. Everything he said, about paying a lot of money to get that job, wanting me dead, it's all lies. What he wants, and no doubt what the Sultan wants as well, is for us to just give up"

Valentin dropped back on the pillow and turned his head away, snorting. "Give up what? Everything we are? Oh, I know very well what they want, but I'd rather die before that happens! I could never be one of them! Neither could you _efendi_ , and you know it!"

Gilbert sighed. "I know but… Vali… all I ask is that you stop being a troublemaker. Look what happened this time… and what you've almost done to me. Do you think I could live with having a man who has done nothing wrong to me on my conscience? Why can't you just… tread carefully, like you have advised me?"

"No!" the strawberry blonde replied stubbornly, frowning and closing his eyes.

 _Well damn it!_ The Prussian cupped the side of his face, thumb stroking his cheek gently, and leaned in, lips touching the other boy's, while his other hand slid down, caressing Valentin's neck, shoulder and then his collarbone, eventually coming to rest onto the upper part of his chest, that wasn't covered by the sheets, palm pressed against the soft skin. He only pulled back when the Romanian's fingers gripped the front of his shirt and he felt his body trembling under his touch.

"What's wrong, Vali? Did I hurt you?" he asked gently, and truthfully a bit concerned. "Or maybe… you don't want this?"

The servant shook his head. "No, it's… uh… I think I'm just not used to it and y-you can't touch me like this, you mustn't!" he pleaded in no more than a whisper.

_Fucking hell! Once more I have kissed my wild servant, who drinks blood, has no fear of whip, not even of sword, but of a kiss… I must be losing my mind!_

" _Efendi_ , you cannot… grow attached to me in any way"

_Attached? No, that would be a very bad move, wouldn't it? In more than one way… But hell, he can sense it, my loneliness, my desire…the little barbarian has more intuition than I expected…_

"I won't, I promise," the prince said, brushing away a few strands of hair off the blonde's face. "Just one thing – I want you to call me Gilbert when there's no one else around, can you do that for me?"

"Yes… Gilbert" the Romanian agreed after a brief moment of hesitation, but then his hands slowly reached up to pull the prince's coat off his shoulders and let it drop down onto the floor. Then his agile fingers found the lace at the neck of his shirt and gave it a soft tug.

The Prussian sighed, resting his forehead against the other's. "Are you sure you want to do this? You're wounded, and you must be tired… "he whispered. Hurting him more was the last thing he would have ever wanted.

"I'll be just fine _ef-_ … Gilbert," Valentin replied, bringing their mouths together once more. But this time they moved past a mere peck on the lips, their tongues met as they tasted each other to their hearts' contempt. Then their clothing was quickly discarded, and the silver haired prince was finally able to explore his servant's body the way he'd dreamed.

Despite his hunger, he kept his touch light and gentle, slowly tracing, as if in an attempt to memorize every patch of skin. His fingers encountered a few very fine scars on his side that he'd failed to notice that night in the bathroom, when he'd seen the strawberry blonde naked for the first time. But taking into account how well and fast the man usually appeared to heal, they must have been from some really deep wounds, he pondered. Gilbert was also a bit confused as to what exactly the Romanian was not used to, seeing how he was currently touching him in all the right places… _Maybe not to gentleness, not to affection…maybe he's always had it rough, everything in his life_ …

The prince's lips left a hot trail of kisses down his servant's neck and down to his chest, teasing the soft nipples, as his hand closed around his arousal and started to pump it. The blonde spread his legs widely, accommodating his own hips and silently begging for more, while panting and fighting back his moans. Eager to feel him fully, Gilbert pulled away and generously coated his fingers with saliva, before thrusting them into the exposed entrance gradually, as gentle as he could, to prepare him.

The softest, most sensual moan escaped Valentin's lips as he sheathed himself fully in one thrust, and the Prussian took his time to observe the expression on his beautiful features in somewhat of a fascination. The other boy had his eyes closed and was currently most deliciously biting his lower lip, and for the first time the prince noticed how sharp his servant's canines really were.

"Fuck, you're so good, you wonderful beast…" he murmured, more to himself, as the blonde wrapped his legs around his waist, shifting the angle a bit and making him go deeper. Nails dug into his shoulder blades, urging him to go faster, so hard that it almost hurt.

Valentin's back arched slightly every time the Prussian would hit his sweet spot, and he had no choice but to stuff his fist into his mouth to prevent himself from moaning out loud. But it wasn't long before Gilbert felt his climax close and he pounded harder, eventually leaning down and removing the Romanian's hand from his mouth, and muffling their almost simultaneous coming into one passionate kiss.

For a while after they both simply relished in the afterglow of their orgasm, silent, the strawberry blonde's long fingers caressing the prince's muscular arm absentmindedly.

"This was a mistake, Gilbert… it's just too dangerous. It can never happen again," he murmured, and the silver haired male nodded, nuzzling his nose into the crook of the other boy's neck. But they both knew it was a lie.


	10. A message

A finger tapping lightly against the dark wood, Gilbert wasn't really concentrating on the papers in front of him. Nevertheless he pretended to, from time to time stealing quick glances at his servant who was currently working on translating a letter. The strawberry blonde was sat on his chair on the other side of the desk, but the respective furniture was so small and the space so cramped that their foreheads almost touched. And so the silver haired prince was constantly getting distracted – by the light gleaming in Valentin's hair, by the long, slender fingers guiding the quill on the paper, and other such insignificant details. He would have liked to reach and touch the Romanian's free hand, cover it with his own, or maybe even intertwine their fingers together.

Not that it meant anything, but still, it was something that he would have liked to be able to do. But they had both agreed that they should refrain from any displays of closeness anywhere in public, and as far as Gilbert suspected his room was hardly _private_. Rather to his surprise, Valentin showed much more caution in this particular matter, and so the prince had deducted that something really bad would most likely happen if they were to be caught 'being friendly' with each other in any way. Yet the Prussian had not managed to refrain for too long and had ended up squeezing his servant into a broom closet one late evening after a particularly exhausting and nerve wracking session of the Advisory Council. And said servant had not really opposed…

But neither of them had spent too much time analyzing the nature of this _occurrence_ , and Gilbert had promised the Romanian anyway that it would not mean anything… more than mutual comforting. In the end, they were both alone in this awful, inescapable prison, surrounded by enemies, and could have used the company of someone their age.

"You know, Vali, I was thinking…" the prince suddenly decided to break the tedious silence. "Things have not been going so bad lately…"

"What?" the blonde asked, lifting his gaze from the letter for a brief moment.

"Yeah… so I'm thinking that maybe they've just given up on us, decided to leave us alone. I mean, even Murat seems to have forgotten to pester us… although that might have something to do with the fact that you've been unusually well behaved lately," the Prussian said with a light grin.

 _Or at least that's what you think_ Valentin's slightly impish expression seemed to say, and indeed the prince had no idea what the strawberry blonde was up to during the day when he was elsewhere occupied. Well, as long as it wasn't bad enough to have any obvious unpleasant consequences…he was better off not knowing.

But the Romanian put his quill down and gave his master a suspicious glance. "How can you be so sure about that? You can't see into his mind to know what he's thinking, or planning," he asked.

"Oh come on, it's already been almost three months since his last attempt, what could he possibly be planning that takes so long? We would have seen some action by now"

The servant rolled his eyes. "Oh, so now you would like to see some action? Gilbert, you should be aware though that these people can be very patient when they want something and very obstinate in the pursuit of their purposes. Anyway I think it's farfetched to say they've given up… and even if they have, it could only be you they've given up on, but never on me…" Valentin sighed and his expression darkened, as if an old burden had suddenly begun to press harder on his heart.

The Prussian frowned, and felt a pang of regret for bringing up the subject at the thought that it hurt the other boy. But he still wanted to know more. "Why are _you_ so sure of _that_? Has Murat said anything to you when I wasn't around?"

"Not Murat…and he's not important anyway, but the Sultan – he'll never give up on trying to break my will, to make me obey him in everything," the blonde murmured chagrined, "And it's not only for his own sake, but he promised Selim"

"Selim… you mean his father? Does this have something to do with the fact that you're related?"

"You know, even among his own people Sultan Selim had a bad reputation… he was disrespectful of the laws – he drank alcohol and had a preference for women who belonged to other men. One of them was my mother… and I suppose that normally the birth of a bastard wouldn't have meant much to him, but seeing how Sadiq was his only boy, he would have liked to get his hands on me"

The silver haired prince blinked, not sure that he would have really wanted to know _that_. "You're… the Sultan's step brother?"

Valentin snorted, looking away. "He's no _brother_! I only see him as a reminder that my blood is impure. I don't expect you to understand but it's actually something I'm ashamed of" He sighed and pushed away his chair, as if in an attempt to put some distance between them. "I don't know why I told you that, now you're probably going to hate me"

Gilbert was taken aback by those words, which appeared to cause so much pain to Valentin that he could almost feel it himself. "No, Vali, how can you say that?!" he asked, even if a bit defensive. "None of this is your fault and… it's not like the Sultan is treating you as a brother or anything… In fact, if that's how he treats his brother, I'm not surprised of how he treats his enemies!"

"But I am his enemy and he is mine, Gilbert, even if he wishes otherwise, and so was Selim and all their kind. I went to war against them, and I still would, anytime!"

"Yeah… But either way, Vali, I don't think you should be ashamed of anything. A man cannot choose own his father. You cannot choose to be born to a man who is kind of heart, or honest, or merciful"

_Or to a man that will love you as his son…_

* * *

"My pashas, it's been a month since we have sent Kemal Pasha with a message to queen Elizaveta Héderváry, demanding the payment of the long overdue tribute, and yet no reply has reached us. Do you have any news from Kemal Pasha?" Sadiq had asked impatient, and much to their misfortune his courtiers had failed to come up with an answer. That had happened almost a week before and even though the Advisory Council had been discussing and looking into the matter, the Turkish emissary seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Gilbert had a very bad feeling about this, it was something like a foreboding he could not shake off no matter what he did. He had heard from the Venetian emissary that even the Pope had called Elizaveta the _insane wench from Buda_ and had expressed his fears that sooner or later she would do something very, very wrong. And so the silver haired prince feared it too.

That morning he simply picked up his scrolls and left his room without a word, burdened by dark thoughts. This was far worse than the Sultan's plans to conquer the Ioanite stronghold of Rhodos, it was a matter much closer to… _home_. He still sort of cared about his childhood friend Elizabeta, despite her recklessness which he partly attributed to the burden of her responsibilities and solitude, and he could only imagine that his father cared too, maybe even more than he did. _Not that he's doing anything about it, he could at least have tried to talk some sense into her…_

The Divan Hall was almost full when he arrived. The Prussian sought a place in the back this time, instinctively feeling that it was a bad moment to be seen, and so he did his best to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. They had been given a week to look into it and he knew that today the Sultan would ask again. After all, unpaid tribute was not a matter the Empire could have possibly taken lightly.

However, other topics were brought to discussion and the debate lasted almost until dusk. It was only then, as the day drew to a close that the prince dared to breathe in somewhat of a relief, only to have his hopes brutally crushed a moment later. A courtier walked in hurriedly and announced that a gift had arrived for His Greatness from queen Elizaveta. But suspicious enough, there was no mention of Kemal Pasha returning with the said gift, and the word itself made Gilbert's stomach cringe in fear.

Sadiq himself looked troubled, his features hardened behind the silk mask, as he pointed towards the richly decorated wooden crate that had been brought in front of the throne. "Open it"

With a bow, Administrator Murat proceeded to the task and removed the lid, revealing something like a barrel inside. Everyone stared, expectant as the lid of that was also pushed aside and the fat courtier peeked inside with a rather confused expression. "Your Greatness, it looks like it's filled with honey, but it appears to be something else inside…" Rolling up his sleeve, the Turk dipped his hand into it, grabbing something, and then struggled to pull it out.

A horrified murmur crossed the Divan Hall as Murat eventually held up what seemed to be a severed head. "Kemal Pasha!" several voices exclaimed, and the Sultan himself rose from his seat abruptly. Gilbert's knees went weak and he pressed both hands over his mouth, fighting back a wave of terror and nausea.

"My pashas, we shall do nothing rash, but instead think of a proper way to respond to this message…"

* * *

The Prussian walked all the way back to his room prey to an uncontrollable trembling, Sadiq's words still echoing in his ears. Though it wasn't so much the words he'd uttered as the tone of his voice – as always smooth and controlled, his anger fully contained, the poisonous voice of someone who always knew what to do, of someone without weakness, and it simply scared him to no end. And that foolish girl, she had really done the _unthinkable_ …

Upon reaching his room, he just walked in and dropped on his bed limply, for once unable to get a grip on himself.

"You don't look so awesome, _efendi_ … Anything bothering you?" Valentin asked, pouring him a cup of water and placing it under the prince's nose.

Gilbert shook his head, pushing the cup away. "I just want to scream, break something and throw up in the same time, if you know what I'm saying…" he blurted out, aware that he wasn't making much sense.

"Right… then I'll just bring a bowl and-"

"No! I would just like to down a fucking cup of wine, that would make me feel better!" the prince interrupted. "Why isn't there any wine in this damned place?!" But there was no wine, just like there was no drop of any kind of alcohol allowed in this place…

"Huh! You're right, some wine would be good," Valentin agreed. He drew his chair closer to the bed and sat down with a preoccupied expression. "Gilbert, what business do you have with _beyefendi_ Sümbül? That man is cunning and dangerous!" he scolded without warning.

The Prussian frowned, feeling a bad headache creeping up. "I have no business with him! What's gotten into you?"

"He would beg to differ. See, he had a message for you – that you would do well to remember that you owe him a favor… Well, he did phrase it more subtly and politely, but that was the idea anyway"

 _Oh shit, I'd completely forgotten about this! And as if one shit wasn't enough… oh God, fuck my luck!_ "So what does he want?" he asked in a slightly cracking voice.

"He wouldn't tell _me_ … What kind of favor do you owe him, Gilbert? And what the hell did you promise him?" the Romanian demanded.

That was really the last thing the silver haired prince needed in his current misfortune – further pestering. He hauled himself from the bed abruptly and made a move to push the blonde away. "It was all your fault!" he shouted, too angry to admit even to himself that it wasn't true.

"How the hell was that my fault?" Valentin jumped in turn, knocking off his chair in the process. "What the fuck do I know about your shit, huh!?" he shouted pushing the Prussian's chest. Gilbert pushed back, causing the Romanian to stumble on one of the fallen chair's legs. He tripped and grabbed the front of the prince's clothes, but the other too lost his balance and they both collapsed onto the hard floor. The strawberry blonde grunted at the painful impact and Gilbert only made it worse by landing right on top of him, crushing him under his weight. A fist flew promptly and collided with the Prussian's jaw, making him see stars.

"Why you little-" he grumbled, struggling to capture the other boy's hands in order to prevent another blow.

"What the fuck crawled up your ass and died, huh? You fucking bastard!" the servant shouted, thrashing beneath him. He was about to say more, but Gilbert suddenly bit down onto his lower lip, making him moan in pain. He swore and jerked his head away, exposing his neck, and the prince bit down again, this time sinking his teeth as deep as he could into the tender skin. Valentin's fingers pulled at his hair and clawed at the back of his neck, but the other had a feeling he knew exactly what they both needed. His hands slipped under the blonde's clothes, delivering some rough caresses, even though the Romanian still tried to free himself from his master's grip. But then Gilbert reached down without a warning and grabbed his crotch, squeezing hard.

"No, let me- ahhhhhh…" Valentin moaned at the touch, sensuously, and pulled the Prussian up to press his mouth against his. "Not-… here-…" he whispered between hurried, sloppy kisses on the other's lips. "We can't…- what if- ahhn… someone sees us-"

"Fuck them! I-I don't care, fuck them!" Gilbert breathed, running a thumb over the strawberry blonde's lower lip and then using it to open his mouth further, after which he delved his tongue in hungrily. His sword belt and the weapon itself were getting in the way, and so with a bit of effort he managed to undo it and threw them off in a messy pile over the fallen chair which he also shoved aside with his arm to make more space, all the while not breaking the kiss.

His fingers worked to unbutton the other boy's coat and then his shirt, eager to expose the soft skin underneath, and once that found, they dug in mercilessly. His mouth eventually left Valentin's, only to work its way down the servant's neck, then onto his collarbone, kissing and sucking, moving further down until it found one of his nipples and bit down on the sensitive bud.

"Just…mhhh… do it already!" the blonde pleaded, as the prince untied his trousers and pulled them down past his knees in one motion.

"As you wish, _efendi_ …"

The prince slammed himself in to the hilt rather brutally, almost without any preparation, making the Romanian bite his already swollen lower lip in pain and dig his nails into his biceps as hard as he could. He thrust hard and fast, driven by wild desire, and despite the roughness it was obvious that Valentin was enjoying it too. It didn't take too long until those wonderfully tight muscles clenched around him and he came violently, almost shouting his servant's name out loud. He gave a few more thrusts, riding his orgasm, until the other boy reached his peak too, and only then he allowed himself to collapse onto him, their panting chests against each other.

"Ah Vali… a kiss with a fist, that's what you're into, huh?" the Prussian murmured, slightly amused, his fingers now gently caressing the blonde's bare thigh.

"Gilbert… you know that someone could walk in on us right now, don't you?"


	11. Request

"And that pretty much sums it up, I guess…"

"I still don't see how that was my fault," the Romanian stated, shoving a meatball into his mouth, as they sat side by side in front of the food tray with their dinner.

Gilbert tried to concentrate on his food as well, although he obviously lacked his servant's appetite. He kept his eyes on his plate, avoiding the other boy's gaze.

"Well I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't been worried about you…" he admitted reluctantly. "And _it was_ your fault, because you _just had to_ beat that servant and stir the shit, and hell… it had been a few days and I didn't even know if you were still alive…" _Great, just go ahead and make a fool of yourself confessing that you actually do care about him, and you did all along, just great!_

Valentin said nothing in reply, but something like a half grin passed on his lips for a brief moment as he too kept his head down.

"Anyway, I was quite upset just now, and this thing with Sümbül – that I'd actually forgotten about - was the last thing I needed… "the Prussian went on "and you scolded me as if I were a child and I'd done something bad!" he pointed, defensive. "And then you jumped up to beat me! Fucking hell, my jaw still hurts, you little bastard!"

"Aww, how not awesome of me…" the strawberry blonde suddenly said, with his mouth full, and with a clear hint of teasing. "And here I thought you were 'much stronger than me', is that not what you said, _beyefendi Beilschmidt_? And you did do something bad – God knows what Murat's assistant will ask, such was the way in which he got you to promise that he could basically ask pretty much anything of you now!"

The prince grumbled some swears under his breath, not very amused. "Well fuck Murat's assistant, he may ask whatever he wants!" he eventually blurted out. "I've got bigger worries now – the Sultan sent an emissary to Budapest because they had not paid the tribute for quite a long time and he's received the man's head back as a 'gift'. Fucking Elizaveta has fucking lost her mind, that's what!" he cursed, burying his face in his hands. His stomach cringed again at the thought and it made him lose whatever little appetite he had. Gilbert pushed his plate aside, suddenly feeling sick.

Beside him, Valentin continued to stuff his face impassible, as if nothing had happened. "But why do you care? Each with his own, and the Héderváry girl has always been a lunatic, just like her father, everyone knows that"

The Prussian lifted his head and turned to his servant. The Romanian was right, but somehow that didn't stop him from feeling a painful sting.

" _Everyone knows that_? Oh thanks, Vali, that's just great! Me and her… we were _engaged_ , for fuck's sake!" _Oh fuck, maybe I should just have kept that to myself…_ he mentally scolded himself, only then realizing how strange and foreign the whole idea suddenly sounded to him.

Upon hearing his words, the blonde stopped, surprised, and placed his fork down, looking apologetic. "Oh… I see… Um… I-I'm sorry if that sounded…"

"Nah, it's… that _isn't_ your fault. And you're right anyway…" Gilbert said shaking his head with a bitter smile. "Even the Holy Father has said it, and he's not one to be rash with his words…" He almost winced when he felt Valentin's hand creeping shyly up his shoulder, as it was the first somewhat affectionate gesture he'd ever gotten from the blonde.

"Do you still love her?" the servant then asked, genuinely curious.

_Love her? Have I ever thought of love, not just with Elizaveta, but with anyone? No, I did not dare think of love…_

"I don't know really…" he began hesitantly, "I mean we were engaged since we were children, and back then she was different… she was fun, and joyous, and we could talk about anything… But later on we did not meet anymore and I only received portraits of hers every now and then. She was becoming more and more beautiful as she grew up, and I thought… well I _really was_ looking forward to our wedding, yes, so maybe I could say that I loved her… But that was before her father died. After that, the Empire's shadow began looming over all of us and there were more important problems… And then my father sent me here and it was over"

"I'm sorry, Gilbert… I don't know what to say," the Romanian whispered, rubbing his shoulder.

The silver haired prince sighed. "It's alright, I guess. That girl is gone now, and it's clear that she grew up to become this woman I don't know anymore and who in all honestly scares me," he concluded. Maybe it was stupid admitting that he was scared of some crazy woman, but he simply didn't care. "No, it's not her I grieve, Vali, but my life and my home, and she kind of reminds me of all that, so I can't help feeling sad and… be worried about what will happen"

"What did the Sultan have to say about this? the blonde wanted to know.

"Well actually he didn't-"Gilbert was interrupted when there was a light knock on the door and then Sümbül's gracious frame appeared in the doorway, a light smile playing on his lips.

" _Beyefendi_ Beilschmidt, please forgive my intrusion…" he spoke in a low voice, taking a bow. "I was wondering if this is a good time to speak to you…"he paused briefly, gaze trailing over to the servant who had stood and was currently busying himself with gathering the dishes "if possible _in private…_ "

Valentin quickly picked up the tray and slipped outside past Sümbül with a deep bow, and then disappeared from sight, rather to the Prussian's discomfort. Hell, he didn't want to be alone with this man.

"Of course, _beyefendi_ Sümbül. Please come in," he invited, motioning to the only chair in the room. He took a deep breath as the Turk gathered his emerald green robes around him carefully and sat down in front of him.

" _Beyefendi_ , I have to confess that I would not have come to bother you if I hadn't found myself in such trouble that I could not deal with myself," Murat's assistant began, looking down at his delicate hands which he had brought together in his lap. "I believe that until now you have had the opportunity to see for yourself what kind of man my master is…" His voice lowered ever more upon saying the last words, and he stole a furtive glance towards the Prussian, as if to assess the effect of what he had just said. "He is quite relentless in the pursuit of perfection in everything that is done under his supervision…"

"Indeed…" Gilbert agreed nodding slowly, and with a slight tone of sarcasm he could not repress.

Sümbül however did not seem to pick up on it and he went on, looking humble and repentant. "But you see, _beyefendi_ , it is in man's nature to be subjected to error, as no one is perfect but _Allah_ … And so, in my unworthiness, I have ended up displeasing _beyefendi_ Murat"

 _Shit! That can't be good…_ Gilbert thought, but he said nothing, waiting to hear the rest of it as well. The Turk shook his head and once more lowered his gaze. "The trouble is that my master has decided to punish me for it and so he has suggested a game of dice, tomorrow night… "

"A… game of dice? I don't understand"

"Well yes, _beyefendi,_ and that is the trouble - for if I won it would only displease my master more, and if I lost… well… that would undoubtedly satisfy him, but then how could I pay him the amount owed? _Beyefendi_ Murat never gambles on small amounts, and I since am not a man of much means… it would only angry him even more if I didn't pay"

The prince chewed his lower lip, nervous, not wanting to know the answer to his next question. "And how could _I_ be of any help to you in this… delicate matter, _beyefendi_ Sümbül?"

Murat's assistant cleared his throat, hesitantly. "Well, my master said that if I don't dare play myself, I could ask someone else to do it in my place, but he most likely only said it since he doesn't think anyone would do it… therefore my humble request is for you, _beyefendi_ Beilschmidt, to take my place. Master would not be angry if _you_ won… And besides, I think you could use the gains…"

A cold shudder ran down Gilbert's spine. "B-but… you know I don't have any money," he stuttered and instantly cursed himself for showing such weakness, but God, right now it was _so hard_ to utter any word that wasn't a swear. "What if I lose? How on Earth am I going to pay him then?"

Sümbül smiled reassuringly. "Oh, I'm sure that you and master can reach an honorable settlement that would not be accessible to a humble servant like me"

Since he'd already made the mistake to promise Sümbül a favor, the Prussian had no choice but to accept, so he nodded slowly. Administrator Murat's assistant retreated with a bow, looking obviously pleased with the outcome of their conversation, while the prince felt that his brain could not make anything past the F word.

* * *

"FUCK IT!" Gilbert exclaimed, running a hand through his now disheveled hair, pacing back and forth. "What am I to do now? What if I lose? I'm fucked! FUCKED! How am I going to pay? I've got nothing! Nothing! Can you imagine the humiliation – what will they say about me? I could even lose my position in the Council! Imagine what they would all say – the Prussian prince is dishonest and does not pay his debts!"

Valentin frowned, crossing his arms. "It does look suspicious, maybe it is Murat's hand after all… Are you sure you don't have anything of value left? Although it might not cover it…"

"Did you not hear what I said!? He already took everything I had! I don't have a dime left on my life, nothing! And I don't get paid for my job, I only get food and a place to sleep, and even for that I am to be grateful!" The Prussian dropped onto his bed, burying his face in his hands. "An _honorable settlement_ he says! Well what the fuck does that mean? What could it possibly mean but something foul?"

The Romanian sighed. "I can only think that there must be something he wants from you and that would be the only way to get it without being too obvious – or downright abusive - about it. But it's a game, so it doesn't mean it has to go the way he expects… I don't know, can't you… cheat or something?"

"Hell no! And I swore I would never gamble again!" the silver haired prince jumped. "Not that I'm not usually lucky, but hell… I-I promised my father" _After the last time I fucked up royally in this respect…_

"You are in a place where old promises don't matter anymore, Gilbert," the Romanian said, "Don't think about that now. And I guess you have no choice but to wait and see how things will unfold"

The prince nodded slowly, with a feeling of utter defeat.


	12. The honorable settlement

_If my father saw me now, he would probably give me that special look of his that tells me I'm scum..._ Gilbert thought bitterly, as he straightened his clothes and ran a rushed hand through his hair to make it presentable. His fingers encountered the silver cross that hung on a chain around his neck and he decided to stuff it inside his shirt and button his coat up fully. No need to be blatant and step on Murat's nerves more than he suspected that he did anyway.

"It's time, we should go," Valentin said, opening the door and stepping out in the dim lit hallway."He will probably be pissed if we are late"

The Prussian drew a deep breath and followed, his heart heavy in his chest. They walked in silence towards Administrator Murat's apartments, and the prince could tell that his servant was tensed as well. They passed through several corridors until they reached a large, luxurious interior garden which looked somewhat familiar to Gilbert from the other night when he'd ventured in that area of the palace guided by Sümbül. But he could not be sure, there were many such gardens around Topkapi and that one had been completely sunken in darkness, while now numerous torches lit the way, casting bizarre dancing shadows on the exotic leaves and flowers.

They went across the garden and left it behind, making their way into a large white marble corridor, and Valentin stopped in front of some large, richly decorated wooden doors. Two servants stood guard on each side of the doors, with their heads bowed. Somehow, they were completely motionless, seemingly frozen in that humble stance.

"Wait!" Gilbert said, turning to face his servant. The strawberry blonde glanced at him curiously, as the other man visibly fidgeted. "Vali… if I lose tonight… will you think I'm an idiot? Will you think that I'm worthless? " The silver haired prince slapped himself inwardly the second the question left his lips, but… he simply had to ask.

The Romanian blinked, his gaze inspecting his master's features in search for an insight, but found none. "No, Gil- _efendi_ ," he corrected himself quickly, noticing that the two other servants were within hearing range. "It's not like you have a choice anyway. And no, I couldn't…"

Then one of the men moved suddenly, turning and cracking the door open. He murmured something and Murat's assistant Sümbül stepped out to greet them. The Prussian sighed and gave Valentin a wry smile.

" _Beyefendi_ Beilschmidt, I'm so glad you could come," he said with a deep, gracious bow. Gilbert noticed that under his light, pleasant smile, the Turk seemed preoccupied, if not a bit frightened. He made way for the prince to step inside, but retained his servant.

"Valentin, go down to the kitchens and get some sweets for the guests, will you? My master will want some more for sure," he ordered.

"What? But-" the blonde tried to protest, pointing at Murat's own servants, but Sümbül hushed him, gently laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, some baklavas, sorbets… and some sweet rose tea as well, _haydi_ " he explained and made a discreet dismissal gesture. The Romanian frowned, casting a quick glance at his master, but obeyed and walked away.

 _I'm awesome, I can handle this… Everything is going to be just fine…_ Gilbert repeated mentally, trying to convince himself that he was neither intimidated nor annoyed by the opulence of the Administrator's large quarters, which were decorated with the finest carpets and tapestries in pleasant shades of gold and red and had an enormous fireplace, while his own room was such a fucking broom closet in comparison and only the previous night, as the late autumn weather was getting colder and colder, he'd almost frozen in that shit of a bed.

* * *

Murat had several guests that evening, at the dice table, and even before he was actually told so, the prince could guess by the looks on their faces that the fat courtier had already robbed them shamelessly.

There was music while they played, and food and sweets were served, as well as sweet rose tea and they smoked flavored _nargile_ -s. They all talked and laughed and at the end of the evening the Prussian was under the impression that things had not gone so bad after all.

"Ha, I told you - I'm awesome!" Gilbert stated, as he left Murat's chambers and met with his servant, who was waiting for him outside in the hallway. "I only lost 200 _akce (A/N – Ottoman silver coins)_ "he added, stumbling a bit. Damn, when had his feet gotten a will of their own?

Valentin, who had managed to 'misplace' a few pastries from the tray he'd brought earlier and was currently indulging on them, choked. "You lost… _how much_?" he murmured stunned, as soon as he regained his voice.

"Oh, come on, Vali…" the prince replied, "It could have been a lot worse. Onur Pasha lost 3500 _akce,_ that's more than he makes in a month," he pointed, clinging to the Romanian's arm for support.

"But… what did he say about payment?" the strawberry blonde asked, his voice reduced to a mere whisper. "You know there's nowhere you can get that much money… in fact hardly _any_ money"

The word 'payment' seemed to chase away some of the Prussian's dizziness. He winced but shrugged his shoulders clueless. "Well, he knows already that there's no way in hell that I can pay him the money, and so it's down to the _honorable settlement_ now"

"Which is?"

"Still to be named…"

* * *

Gilbert woke up the next morning with a pounding headache. As was his habit, he checked his clock, swore several times at the early hour, and then fought to get rid of the blankets he'd wrapped himself in to keep warm during the night. _Sort of_. Valentin brought him breakfast and poured his coffee, with a look of concern. The prince ate quickly and ill-humored, then stood up and gave the crumbles to Gilbird. The little yellow canary was chirping happily, while his master exchanged very few words with his blonde companion. The Prussian waited patiently for the Romanian to adjust and buckle his sword belt and to help him get into his coat, then picked up his scrolls for the day and headed towards the Council's chambers.

"It's been two days and yet His Greatness the Sultan has made no decision regarding our response to Kemal Pasha's death," Berker Pasha observed."I must confess that I am surprised. In Selim's time-"

"I am too, Pasha," Onur Pasha interrupted. "But I am sure that His Greatness is only taking his time in conceiving a suitable plan. I know what you were going to imply, that the young Sultan lacks his father's determination!"

"Nobody was suggesting such a thing, Pasha…" the older man defended.

"His Greatness will not make any rash decisions, now that the winter is approaching," Onur Pasha continued aggressively," but I am sure that in spring we will go to war! The arrogant Hungarians have dared to defy us for too long, and this was the last drop!" Then he went on to rant some more on the same subject, and the other members of the Advisory Council pretty much ended up agreeing that this was the most likely course the events were going to take.

The Prussian struggled hard to maintain an impassible appearance. Death… destruction… plundering, all those evil things that Elizaveta was going to bring upon her people thanks to her foolishness passed through his mind, making him shudder. Did she even know what she had done? Sitting safely inside her castle, the young queen probably felt invincible, all the more since due to her short years she had never yet seen war… The silver haired prince knew that he could do nothing to help the woman he'd thought he'd once loved, and his heart sank. No one could…

There was only one hope – that there was still much time left until spring and the Sultan's obsession for the conquest of Rhodos might deter him from his revenge, but even that hope was very faint… No, thinking of hope was foolish – even if the Ottomans did attack Rhodos first, sooner or later the Sultan would remember and carry out his revenge.

* * *

As twilight crept up, the Council meeting ended, and the prince gathered his papers, feeling more and more nervous as thoughts of the most likely upcoming war were replaced by more immediate matters. Now that he was sober, deprived of the sweet intoxication of opium, 200 _akce_ did seem a significant amount. What the hell was he going to do?

Walking out of the chambers, the Prussian found Murat's assistant Sümbül waiting for him and a cold shudder ran down his spine. _Shit! Now I'm screwed!_

" _Beyefendi_ Beilschmidt, please forgive me for bothering you at this hour…" the Turk spoke in a low voice, taking a bow."My master wishes to discuss the matter of the... uh… settlement with you" he said a bit hesitating. "Oh, just wait a second… Onur Pasha!"

The other courtier, who had just stepped out of the chambers, turned a frowning face to Sümbül upon hearing himself called. "What is it, Sümbül _Aga_? Can't you see I'm busy?" the young pasha inquired, shoving his scrolls into the arms of one of his servants.

"Forgive me, Pasha…" Sümbül apologized, more humbly this time. "My master would like to speak to you now, in _that_ matter…"

"This is ridiculous!" the courtier shouted, but then remembered to lower his voice as he drew closer to the more fragile looking man and barely refrained from grabbing the front of his robes. "I told him that I would pay, all I need is some time!" he hissed. "Have I not paid him always?"

Murat's assistant pressed both his hands against his chest and bowed his head. "Yes, of course you had, _beyefendi_ , but if I dare say, past amounts have never been so… significant… That's why my master has thought to ease your burden by offering you an _honorable settlement_ for… let's say, half of it…"

But Onur Pasha hardly looked eased, and his features darkened." Does Murat not trust my word? He's insulting me!" But his words remained unanswered as the Administrator's assistant maintained the same stern expression.

"Fine!" he eventually grumbled in acceptance. "I will see your master now"

Sümbül led the way, walking graciously as was his habit, and Murat's debtors had no choice but to follow him. But much to Gilbert's surprise, he noticed that they weren't headed towards the Administrator's quarters, but to the main hall of arms. _The bastard is going to ask us to fight_ , the prince guessed. _Fucking hell!_ The Prussian was too much of an experienced fighter to actually be afraid of such a confrontation, but still, he didn't know what Onur Pasha was capable of. He cast a furtive glance towards his companion, assessing him. The Turk was still what could be called a young man, and seemed to have a pretty strong build.

"What is the meaning of this, _beyefendi_ Murat?" Onur Pasha demanded rather abruptly, once they were in front of the fat courtier. "Why have you brought us here?"

Murat was waiting patiently in the middle of the large stone paved courtyard, accompanied by a servant who had something like a long red wooden box in his hands. Somewhere near the wall, the Prussian spotted Valentin, standing with his arms crossed and a blunt expression.

"Onur Pasha, _beyefendi_ Beilschmidt," he began with a false sweet smile, "I have humbly asked you both to come here today because I have a small request from you-"

"Oh yes? What your servant called 'a honorable settlement'? I am asking you, is this not a proof that you are distrusting _my honor_? I have never heard such words from anyone, _beyefendi_ Murat!" the younger man protested.

"I am sure that is true, but then again you have never lost so much money, Pasha…"Murat replied gently and a bit amused. "Anyway, there is no reason for you to get so worked up. As you know, my work here is not half as interesting as yours, and I wish to be entertained"

Gilbert wanted to say something, but Onur Pasha got ahead of him. "And you want _us_ to entertain you?" he spat.

"Pasha, I am only too aware of your swordsman skills" Murat decided to flatter him into submission. "And a while ago I had the pleasure to witness a little demonstration from _beyefendi_ Beilschmidt as well. And so I told myself – what a wonderful opportunity!" He made a calling gesture and the servant with the box stepped closer. The fat courtier opened the lid, revealing two wonderfully crafted curve bladed swords, and motioned towards them in invitation.

Grumbling something under his breath, Onur Pasha picked one of them and moved a bit away, to take position, while Gilbert was left with the second. _Fucking hell, this is not fair!_ he mentally swore, weighting the foreign sword in his hand. He'd never used this kind of blade before and was a bit clueless. The silver haired prince took his time to remove his own sword belt, that would have only hindered his movements, and handed it over to his servant before taking position.

"Good!" the Administrator clapped his hands. "You will stop when first blood is drawn. Begin!"

Upon observing his opponent's hostile expression, it suddenly dawned on Gilbert that perhaps Murat's challenge had not been random, but a carefully thought out plan. Somehow, the fat courtier must have known that at Council meetings the prince was constantly inclined to take the side of the older and wiser Berker Pasha, a man Onur Pasha deeply loathed. And so, it was easy for someone to deduce that a certain degree of animosity would be present between them.

In battle, the younger pasha proved just as aggressive as he was in his speeches. He attacked almost without warning, lunging forward for a quick blow, which the Prussian barely managed to block in time. He knew that the Ottoman swords needed a shorter range for contact than his straight one, and that made them more dangerous.

The prince kept blocking Onur's blows, but as the blades were more slippery they were almost impossible to clash together and he could not get to push the man backwards and gain the upper hand. But it soon became obvious that either the Pasha was not as skilled as Murat had claimed or he was just badly out of shape, because he had clearly begun to tire. His breath was shallow and quickened, and he was desperately trying to end it.

 _Hell, I'm not letting him win and give the fat fuck any satisfaction!_ Gilbert decided, suddenly allowing the other man to get closer, in an attempt to get him. But his plan went wrong, because his sword wasn't made for thrusting, and instead Onur's blade brushed the side of his neck.

The prince felt the sting and warm blood trickling inside his collar and a wave of rage washed over him. Unexpectedly, he pushed his opponent in the chest, first with his elbow and then with his boot, and the Turk was sent tumbling down onto the stone floor, sword flying from his hand.

"Ah wonderful!" the Prussian heard Murat exclaim, and then he said something more, but his words were lost in a strange blur. The whole courtyard began to spin around him and suddenly the floor rushed towards his face and everything went black.


	13. Sentence

" _But it was just a… well, barely more than scratch! How can it be possible? Are you sure?"_

" _It is poison, beyefendi, the signs do not lie. And some powerful venom it must be, to strike a young, strong man and bring him down like that, in just a few moments. Look at the flesh around the wound – it's all blackened and oozing"_

" _So it was the blade then? The poison – you reckon that it was on the blade?"_

" _Without a doubt beyefendi, it has gone through the cut and into his blood…Unfortunately there is nothing more I can do"_

" _Allah, Allah korusun! But we can't…"_

The words somehow reached Gilbert's ears, but the strange, unfamiliar voices sounded like they were far, far away. He found himself floating through something like a thick, almost palpable fog that kept him prisoner and rendered him helpless. But beyond that, Gilbert knew nothing else - his eyes refused to open and his lips would not move, his limbs were numb and felt barely attached to his own body.

" _What harm has this man ever done to you, Sümbül Aga? What kind of filthy worm are you? Speak!"_

" _Please forgive me, senin yüksekliğinin, even if I am a wretched, wretched man, beyond any pardon! But how was I to know of my master's plan? Allah bana merhamet! I've only done his will, only what he has ordered me to do and say, but I didn't know, I had not guessed what it was that he really intended, I swear… "_

Then the words went away, muffled, and there was nothing but darkness left, a deep, mute darkness that swallowed the Prussian, and he could do nothing to fight it. And then, suddenly, his left cheek burned, so intense as if all the nerves of his body had been concentrated into that very place and sent aflame, and his eyes snapped open with a will of their own.

At first, all he saw was the semi-obscurity of his small room, vague contours of the walls and furniture, until the prince could muster enough focus to distinguish a known figure sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Gilbert! Can you hear me?" a soft voice called, but the sound pulsated painfully against his ears and he jerked his head away from his servant, who was now leaning over him. "Talk to me, please! Say something!" he pleaded, trembling fingers cupping the side of his face.

 _Say what?_ The silver haired prince's eyes bore into the Romanian's darkened red orbs, which were filled with a terror that was beyond his comprehension, but also with the slightest hint of hope, as if what was imminently going to happen was somehow avoidable, escapable. _Foolish boy…_ _death forgives no man…_

"I am… I am dying… am I not?" he finally breathed out the horrid truth, seeking a confirmation he did not need. But the Prussian had never thought that such words could leave his lips so lightly, and almost bringing about a sense of relief. Unlike his servant, he felt like he was already beyond caring. Maybe he had been dead for a while now and had simply failed to acknowledge it. Maybe his heart had stopped beating the very moment his foot had stepped over the threshold of his home, as he had left it for good - and with it this world.

Valentin nodded slowly in reply, an expression of frozen fear imprinted all over his beautiful features, as realization finally seemed to dawn upon him, terrible and merciless.

"Just… just don't…" Gilbert's weakened fingers found the Romanian's hand on top of the covers, delicate and firm, warm and alive, but he no longer had any strength to squeeze. "Don't let me… die alone… Valentin…" he whispered coarsely. But the blonde withdrew his hand and suddenly looked away from his face, with a deep frown, and seemed to be struggling with himself.

 _He seems to be so afraid… What could he possibly be afraid of?_ the prince wondered randomly, his intuition unusually sharpened just now, in what were his last moments of consciousness _What can he be afraid of, when it is my body that I feel slowly freezing, slowly turning into stone…_

Then the corner of his half closed eye suddenly caught the silver flicker of something that his servant held in his hand, and he scowled, focusing upon it and noticing what it was – a knife. But the silver haired prince was now past any fear of what the Romanian might do with it, since he was doomed anyway.

"They will have my head for this," Valentin said, pretty much as a matter-of-fact, breaking the awkward silence, as he pulled up his sleeve and Gilbert saw the small silvery blade glide across the blonde's left forearm, slicing through the pale flesh. Blood gushed out almost instantly, a savage sight to behold, and the Prussian's disgust only increased when the arm was forced against his mouth.

"Drink"

It wasn't a plea, or a suggestion. It was an order and in his condition Gilbert knew he was much too weakened to refuse, even if he understood nothing of the blonde's intentions. Valentin's eyes were now void of the strange fear he'd shown earlier and shone coldly in the dim light, as if he had finally reached a sinister conclusion.

The salty, slightly metallic tasting liquid invaded the prince's mouth, sliding past his tongue and inducing an unexpected feeling of nourishment. This bizarre feeling quickly took over whatever reason was left to him, and he gulped it down slowly, still fighting to repress a bit of instinctive disgust, before his lips unconsciously began to suck and his tongue darted out to explore the other boy's wound, greedy for more of the precious elixir.

With renewed strength, his arms managed to move up, fingers grabbing and digging into the offered arm, driven by hunger alone. And so he fed, relentless and oblivious, aware only of the rich taste in his mouth, of the blood that mingled with his own, ecstatic and stronger than opium, until the Romanian pushed him back on the pillows, pulling his arm away from Gilbert's grasp. A whimper escaped the Prussian's lips at the sudden loss, as he experienced something very close to anger at the denial of what he craved. But that melted away upon noticing Valentin's expression – he looked hurt, but not in physical pain. The strawberry blonde seemed simply sorrowful, as if an infinite pain and sadness had come upon him.

"This is wrong, so wrong…" the Romanian whispered, almost inaudibly, taking a deep breath.

 _Wrong? What is wrong?_ Gilbert did not know what his servant was talking about and could not make such an effort as to focus into thinking. His now unusually sharpened senses only picked up the scent - and even the sound – of the other boy's blood rushing through his veins, through his body that was so warm, so inviting, the very essence of his life.

"More! I need more… just a bit more, please…Vali! I-I want-"

But then his servant hushed him with a slow, gentle kiss, mouth pressing against the lips that were still wet with his own blood. _You must sleep now, Gilbert…_ a voice resounded inside his skull, incredibly soothing and relaxing, causing his eyelids to drop almost instantly.

* * *

" _Allah, Allah! Bu korkunç bir günahtır!" a voice lamented, only to be soon overcome by many more._

" _You would never be able to rule like I do, or like your brother will, one day, Gilbert," Elizaveta said, dropping playfully onto her cushioned throne. "You are too weak to be king! Look!"_

_The brunette threw her head back in laughter and stretched her hands forward, holding her palms up, and the prince noticed in utter horror that they were full of blood. Thick, dark red blood dripped through her fingers, tainting the pale green gown the young queen was wearing._

" _You are afraid of it, aren't you? Afraid of your own death? Or maybe, afraid of sending others to their death? Of tainting your soul? I am not!"_

" _Stop it! Stop it!" Gilbert shouted, terrified at her words. "Elizaveta, what have you done? What have you become?"_

_But the Hungarian continued to laugh like a mad woman, and she pushed something away with her silk shoe. Kemal Pasha's head rolled onto the marble floor until it reached the silver haired prince's feet and the black eyes stared up at him, lifeless and empty. The Prussian took a step back and stumbled, then tried to make his way out of the room, tripping over the dead bodies that lay all over the place. But there was no escape and the queen only laughed harder and harder, the sound echoing sinisterly through the large hall._

" _Let me go! Let me go…"_

"LET ME GO!"

Gilbert thought he had shouted, but nothing more than a faint whisper had actually left his lips. His still heavy eyelids lifted slowly, and the first sight that met his eyes was a small piece of starry night sky, somewhere above him, fragmented by thick iron bars.

* * *

**Dictionary:**

**Allah korusun – Heaven forbid, Turkish**

**Senin yüksekliğinin – Your highness, Turkish**

**Allah bana merhamet – God have mercy on me, Turkish**

**Bu korkunç bir günahtır – This is a terrible sin, Turkish**

* * *


	14. The son forsaken

The recent nightmares and the terrible fight his body had to put up against the venom had left Gilbert utterly exhausted. He had retained very little memory of what had happened that night, when his barbarian servant had forced him to drink human blood. Indeed recalling that one detail, although significant it seemed, was hazy to him, that peculiar yet quite intense experience forgotten.

But as superstitious as that so-called _medicine_ had sounded the first time the Romanian had confessed about using it, it had apparently ended up working miracles – seeing how at least the medic had been sure that he would not survive his wound… Anyway, whatever the truth was in this matter, the Prussian soon realised that he had just woken up to much bigger issues to be concerned about for the moment. He was imprisoned.

Still feeling sort of lightheaded, the prince hauled himself off the thin hay mattress, sitting up fully, and glanced around. The small barred window he'd first gazed at upon opening his eyes was still there, high up the stone wall and surrounded by darkness. Very little light poured into the narrow cell from the torches lit in the corridor outside, and Gilbert could barely distinguish the outlines of the damp, blackened walls.

There was a foul, suffocating smell about the room, that seemed to have been there since times long forgotten, a smell of mould and decay and death, which the silver haired prince found positively depressing, along with the protruding cold. But those were far from being his biggest problems.

" _They will have my head for this…"_ Gilbert recalled the strawberry blonde's words with a scowl _,_ but seeing his current situation, he wondered whether it was really Valentin's head they would have or rather his. " _This is wrong, so wrong…"_ Well, of course they would think it was wrong, the Prussian concluded, after all it was clear that he hadn't been supposed to survive Murat's carefully planned arrangement. But why exactly was he imprisoned now? Had he been charged with attacking Onur Pasha? The man had tumbled onto the ground in a rather un-dignifying manner, which had probably made him the laughing stock of the other courtiers, and since the pasha was a proud man…

No sounds could be heard in that dungeon, and the silence around him was absolutely maddening. The torches outside, which were burning with a thick, heavily scented smoke, were the only indication that the place wasn't actually deserted. And the fact that the night sky was visible through that barely there opening was proof that it couldn't have been very deep either. It suddenly occurred to the prince that maybe he should have asked his servant about the dungeons of Topkapi, since according to courtiers' accounts he had spent quite a while locked in here.

_No, that's stupid, stupid! Why would I have asked him such a thing? Most likely he would have had no desire to talk about it… And what good would that do to me now? It's not like I can escape from this place…_

Feeling suddenly chilled to the bone, Gilbert hugged himself and rubbed his upper arms, and only then did he come to notice that his velvet coat was gone. "Fucking hell!" he swore out loud, but his voice came out weak and choked, despite the mixture of anger and panic that overwhelmed him.

 _The fat fuck must have taken it!_ the silver haired prince thought morosely. _Hell, he must have taken everything else I had! Not that he'd left me much in the first place – just my sword, a few clothes and… my papers, nothing of value at any rate._ His fingers quickly slipped inside his shirt and with some relief he discovered the silver cross still hanging around his neck. At least he hasn't taken _this_ as well…

 _No! Gilbird!_ His little golden canary suddenly came to his mind and his eyes instantly filled with tears. _What will happen to him, now that I… that maybe I won't get out of here alive? Who will take care of him?_

* * *

He waited and waited, for something to happen, or at least someone to come, his body crouched tightly to preserve heat to the limbs as much as possible, until sleep took him once more. Only now, the previously poison induced nightmares were replaced by more dreadful ones sprung from his current thoughts and worries.

Elizaveta no longer returned to frighten him with imagined displays of her assumed madness, instead his father and brother came to haunt him. But strange enough, they were neither troubled with fear of the approaching war nor in any way burdened. Quite on the contrary, they appeared happy and free, just as they'd been when he and Ludwig were little and their father still a young man, but now there was only his brother that the king held up in his arms and laughed with, and told old war stories to, but neither of them spoke a single word to the Prussian. It was as if he wasn't and had never been there with them, as if he'd never existed at all.

And although many other things unburied from the depths of his memory came to torment Gilbert in his troubled sleep, he dreamt nothing of his servant. It was all there – the palpable sense of his body, the blood color of his eyes, the taste of blood on his lips, the blood staining the pale flesh of his arm, and the scent and taste of that too, blood everywhere, in every form, surrounding Valentin like a magic binding – but everything was kept in a secret, locked room, the door of which the prince would not dare open.

* * *

Holding his robes close to his body with one hand as to not have them accidentally touch the filthy walls, Murat briefly removed the other hand which was keeping a perfumed handkerchief to his nose and motioned for the guard to open the barred door of the cell. The man obeyed and brought the torch inside, and the yellow light poured over the narrow space, revealing the object of his interest.

The guard roughly pushed the slumbering prisoner with the tip of his boot several times and eventually Gilbert woke up, grumbling. He was about to let out a nasty swear when he noticed the colorful silky robes before anything else and refrained.

"How the mighty have fallen…" Administrator Murat observed with a clear hint of irony, as he waited patiently for the Prussian to get up and standing. "I have to say that you look terrible, _beyefendi_ Beilschmidt," he added, "but I suppose it's only natural for a man who has just recovered from such illness as yours. You have been lying unconscious for at least three weeks"

The prince nodded, sticking his back on the cold wall behind him and crossing his arms, deciding he would not be humble. "So, why am I here, _beyefendi_ Murat? Have I done something wrong? What am I being accused of?" he cut to the subject.

The fat courtier snorted discreetly before answering, and fidgeted with the handkerchief. "Well, _beyefendi_ , I'm afraid that you have not done anything yourself, and furthermore, I must add, there was nothing you could have done to prevent it from happening, if I may say so…But your father-"

"What of my father?" Gilbert interrupted him, suddenly alert and haunted by a sinister suspicion that he fought hard to suppress. "What is going on with my father?"

The Turk cleared his throat. "Well, I don't suppose there's any… pleasant way to say this, but it seems that your noble father has forsaken you. No farther than two weeks ago His Greatness has openly declared his intentions to have his war against those murderous Hungarians, and very soon after that King Ludwig has broken the agreement you were part of, _beyefendi_ …"

The words cut into the prince's heart like a thousand knives, and his legs failed him. He slid helplessly towards the ground, with clenched fists and tears stinging his eyes. "You're lying! It's a lie! It can't be true!" he whispered hopelessly, more to himself, and Murat did not seem to hear at all, since he went on.

"Furthermore, rumor has it that subsequent to breaking his agreement with the Sultan, your father has also issued a marriage offer to queen Elizaveta, and apparently she has accepted. Rather weird for you to have such a young stepmother, I daresay" he observed.

Gilbert could not think anymore. It was way too much and too soon for him to take in. He simply shrugged, glancing blankly at the dancing flames of the torch. "Whatever decision my father has made, I am sure it was the wisest. And as my ancestors used to say – a king must be a king to his people before he is a father to his children, a brother to his siblings or a husband to his wife. Whatever his will, I will gladly obey it, and if he asks for my life, he shall have it," he spoke calmly, even though the words felt hollow and foreign. _It's the right thing to say, and the right thing to do. Just like I've done always, what I've been taught it's the right thing…not that it mattered._

If Murat was in any way disappointed at the effect of the news he'd delivered, or lack thereof, he did not show it, but Gilbert guessed that seeing him in that state, broken and defeated, confined in that miserable dungeon and abandoned by his very family, was enough satisfaction for his nemesis.

The courtier sighed and briefly pressed the perfumed handkerchief against his nose. "Well, as much as I'm not in the habit of giving anyone false hopes, I must say that such a drastic thing may not be required of you after all, _beyefendi_. His Greatness has not yet made any decision about your fate, other than having you removed from the Advisory Council and imprisoned. But you have not done him any offence yourself and the Sultan is neither excessively begrudging nor bloodthirsty, not to mention that from what I've heard you have been serving him well all this time. So chances are that he will be merciful and spare your life after all…"

_Merciful enough to have me rot in here instead, while denying me a dignified death? Yes, that would break me for good, that would truly bring me to my knees, all the while having my own blood to thank for that…_

Murat made a move to leave when the prince suddenly stopped him. _"Beyefendi,_ do you think I could see my servant, even for just a moment? There's something I must tell him…"

But the Turk sighed and shook his head. "No, _beyefendi_ , I'm afraid that in the current… overall circumstances you cannot see His Highness prince Valentin, if it is him that you are – rather incorrectly - referring to"

The Prussian stared, dumbstruck and unable to comprehend. "He… what? But… so now he is a _prince_?"

"He has not _become_ a prince over night, if that's what you're asking, _beyefendi_. He always was one, independent of his relation to the Sultan. A Valah prince, yes – his mother was a princess"

_But… he did not seem to have a problem with working as a servant, and never said a single word about it, never complained, not even once. What prince would do that? I could never endure such humiliation…_

"Oh, I can understand your confusion, _beyefendi,_ " Murat said gently, "yet I must remind you that the Ottoman Empire has not risen to the power it has today because we are kind to those who try to thwart us in our purposes. If you ask me, the prince's punishment – of being your servant – was very little for deeds such as his"

The prince did not know what to say and think anymore, only an awkward grimace made its way across his face. Everything was just fucked up beyond belief. Murat picked up on his sheer puzzlement and decided to throw in some more.

"Look, _beyefendi_ Beilschmidt, I know that all this time you have sympathized with your fellow _non-believer_ and that you have treated him with undeserved kindness, and now, after he has cared for you, even more you are inclined towards feeling affection to him, but I must say that you were brutally deceived. I am not aware of what the Valah, I mean His Highness might have told you, but I daresay you don't know him like… well, others do. Everything that he has done and said to get into your good graces was done with clear purpose, and that was to use you"

 _To use me?_ Gilbert inwardly snorted. _What an absurd lie – if there was one man in this place that he could make absolutely no use of, that had to be me. What could I have possibly done to help him when I couldn't even help myself?_

"But he-"

"Anyway," the administrator interrupted him, "If I were you, _beyefendi_ , which I have to say that I'm glad I am not, I would worry more about my own issues than about His Highness, and only time – and I hope shortly – can tell what will happen with you…"

The fat courtier turned to leave, without the Prussian making any more attempts to retain him, but then he spun on his heels one last time, obvious disdain visible on his powdered features. "I do have a curiosity though, about the whole thing with King Ludwig – tell me, _Gilbert Beilschmidt_ , are you even his son?"

With that final unanswered question, Administrator Murat left the dungeon, and with him the light, leaving the silver haired prince a helpless prey to darkness and despair.

_Am I... his son? Who am I?_

* * *


	15. Painful truth

The cup of water was fairly clean and both the bread and the cheese looked fresh enough, but none of these observations made any impression on the prince. Gilbert had no thirst to quench and no hunger to sate, and for him the food had lost all taste anyway. He felt utterly numb, like a dead body that no longer belonged to anyone. If anything, he could not muster enough strength within himself to be worried about his looming fate anymore.

The question asked by Murat on a whim of malice – but which the Prussian had then suddenly found terrifyingly justified – lingered in the back of his mind, together with the answer he somehow still refused to accept. Not that he knew it to be true for sure, but there was so much proof to it that it was rather undeniable.

" _Tell me,_ _Gilbert Beilschmidt_ _, are you even his son?"_

In many ways the silver haired prince knew that he had proven to be a disappointment to his father , especially when he was younger and a bit of a drunkard and a gambler, but then again ever since his early childhood very little had been done to school him in the ways of life. Sure, he had been educated by teachers, given various knowledge and skills that were required by his rank, but his father had been nothing but cold and distant.

Back then Gilbert had assumed - in his innocence - that such was the king's nature, and had suspected no other reason behind it. But with the birth of his younger brother Ludwig things had changed. Even if their mother had died giving birth to her second son, King Ludwig had not shown great sorrow, but instead obvious love and affection had been showered onto the newborn, who had also been given what the Prussian had been denied – the king's name.

_We have the same mother, Ludwig and I, and yet… most likely, either I am not his son or he could never be sure about it… And he hated her for it, he hated our mother._

_And hated me for it, all along…_

Gilbert barely remembered his mother, but kept her memory in sacred reverence, for she had been the kindest person he'd even known in his life, and the only one who'd given love to the boy. The prince would not think of judging her – her sins were her own, and in this life or the next she must have paid for them enough. Even if she hadn't been his mother, Gilbert could still not have brought himself to blame a woman who had not been faithful to his father.

 _But_ I did _love him, I looked up to him all my life… Despite my straying, all I ever wanted was to do his will, to please him, to see him look down upon me with kindness and approval… How was I to know that maybe all he ever saw in me was his wife's betrayal?_

Gilbert could not refrain from wondering whether the king had had any hesitation when he'd broken the treaty and betrayed him in turn. Somehow, he highly doubted it. Of course when it had come to it, King Ludwig had chosen Elizaveta – a mad wench but who had inherited a kingdom, for Heaven's sake – over his son who had nothing, except for blood that perhaps wasn't his anyway.

He was old indeed, a man of his age should have no longer thought of marriage, and maybe in that respect his younger brother would have been more suitable for this alliance, but above all the reckless Hungarian needed to be controlled before she caused any further disasters, and prince Ludwig was much too young and inexperienced for such a task.

 _Yes, no one can deny he's always had an excellent mind for politics…_ the Prussian pondered bitterly _, I only wish he'd had a heart as well_

There was still a question left about what his father could actually do now to repair the damage the queen had already done with her gesture, all the more since he'd broken the agreement he'd had with the Empire. Maybe there was a way that the old king had thought of, as he rarely did things without careful planning. In all truth, Gilbert wished he would not care anymore, that he could just lie there like a dead thing he partly felt he already was and think and care of nothing any longer. But how could he? His people were still his people, and even if King Ludwig was not actually his father, he was still his king.

_Or is he? He left me for dead… Is he still my king? Do I still owe him my loyalty and obedience now that he has turned his back on me and betrayed me? Now that I don't even know who I am anymore?_

* * *

The prince's awful state lasted for many days and nights, as in that dark, cold dungeon he had nothing to keep him company but his own gloomy thoughts. Yet Gilbert was not the kind of man that could brood in depression for very long, and once all the conclusions had been drawn he gradually grew restless. May it have been life or death for him ahead, he wanted it to happen, he wanted to know. And the answer did not delay for too long.

By the faint light slipping in through the tiny window, Gilbert guessed it was early morning when steps resounded in the narrow corridor outside his cell. But instead of the meager breakfast, the guard brought a visitor this time. The barred door opened abruptly, creaking, and Sümbül _Aga_ floated graciously inside. The prince did not bother to stand up this time, instead he just sat there, expectant.

By the look on his face, Murat's administrator seemed to have some trouble finding his words. He fidgeted with the buttons of his robe and frowned, shaking his head.

"Well? Has my fate been decided, _beyefendi_ Sümbül?" Gilbert eventually decided to help him. It was clear to him that the man's discomfort could only mean that there were bad news to be delivered. "Was I sentenced to death?"

The Prussian asked the question in a calm voice, as if it were nothing to him, but the Turk's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he shook his head vigorously, pressing his palms against his chest. "Oh, no, _Allah korusun_ , _beyefendi_ Beilschmidt! How can you say such a thing?"

"That's good to hear, I suppose," Gilbert replied, nodding slowly, "but there _is_ something, isn't it?"

"Well yes… His Greatness has decided that you should remain here, at the palace, and… well, that you should work here, even if no longer with the Council…" Sümbül hesitated, as if he really wanted to avoid getting to the point.

"Given these unfortunate circumstances that _beyefendi_ Murat was kind enough to inform me of , I am grateful to know that I shall remain His Greatness' servant"

That seemed to bring some relief to the Administrator's assistant, because he relaxed a bit. "Yes, that is…I suppose it is good that things have turned out this way and not otherwise," he hurried to say. "Anyway, I was sent here today because Administrator Murat wants your training to begin right away…" He paused, fidgeting some more as he noticed the prince's puzzlement, but then decided to go on. "You are to enter his service"

The delicate Turk took a step back instinctively when the Prussian suddenly stood up to full height, towering over him, despite the fact that the prince had no intention to be threatening. "His service?"

 _Fucking hell!_ Gilbert mentally swore. _Being the fat fuck's servant – aside from death, this was just about the worst thing that could happen to me!_ He shuddered and refused to even think of the implications of what he'd just heard.

"Yes. Now come, we must get you cleaned up," Sümbül urged, stepping outside in the corridor, while the silver haired prince followed reluctantly, without any further questions. "You will need new clothes as well before your training begins" he added, leading the way.

* * *

The guard escorted them all the way up and out of the dungeons, into a barren, unkempt courtyard, where they were eventually left to their own devices. But from there Sümbül sped up, obviously unwilling to spend any more time in such unpleasant surroundings, and led the way into a building that contained various supply storages, closets and a smaller _hammam_ for servants who did not have the privilege to use the main one.

There, the prince was sent inside along with a bundle of fresh clothing, and kindly advised not to take too long. Sighing, Gilbert peeled off the dirty garments that had stuck rather disgustingly to his skin and tossed them aside before sinking into the hot water. After the time spent in that awful cell, it truly was a blessing. He only became aware of the painful knots in his muscles when they started to relax and dissolve, giving way to a pleasant drowsiness. Sadly, he had no time to indulge in the feeling, and so he hurriedly used the soap and a rough sponge to scrub himself clean as best as he could.

The clothes he had been given did not look bad at all, but they were of course tailored after the Ottoman fashion, and they weren't of the quality he was normally used to wearing, so the prince scrunched his nose, all the more since he assumed that his own clothes had been appropriated by his new master. But he did not dwell too much on these thoughts, instead slipped them on and went to meet with Sümbül.

In the meantime, the Administrator's assistant had been busy 'misplacing' a tray of mutton sausages from the palace kitchens and he thoughtfully shared it with the Prussian. Again, Gilbert did not realize how hungry he had been until he found himself in front of a full plate. He wolfed down the food, grateful, and thought that maybe Sümbül wasn't a bad man after all.

* * *

However, the good spirits were short lived and his mood darkened when Sümbül told him that they had to see Murat next and receive further instructions as to what his tasks were going to be. The prince could not help dreading the imminent encounter, and the thought that he was now fully in the fat courtier's power was absolutely terrifying.

"I was wondering if I could ask you something, _beyefendi_ Sümbül," he began, willing to change the subject.

"Yes?"

"When he last visited me, in my cell, _beyefendi_ Murat has told me some rather puzzling things in respect of my former servant… and I was hoping that maybe you could enlighten me? Don't get me wrong, I have no intention of sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, it's just… I was told that I could not see him anymore. All I wanted was to thank him for nursing me back to health"

"Of course, I see," the Turk nodded, "but I'm afraid that the whole problem is quite… complicated. A lot has happened in these weeks while you were prey to your illness and imprisoned." He shook his head with a sad air and brought his hands together as he walked, intertwining his fingers.

"I could figure that much myself, _beyefendi_ ," the prince said, "yet it has certainly struck me odd when master said that now he is _His Highness, prince Valentin…_ All the more since the Sultan was determined to punish him."

"And punished he was, _beyefendi_ Beilschmidt, more than you think." Sümbül sighed again, sort of reluctant to reveal more of what he knew. "You see, when he saved your life, the prince did the one thing he was specifically asked not to do by the Sultan himself when he was brought here – and that was _magic_ "

Gilbert blinked. " _What_? But you don't genuinely think that-"

" _Beyefendi_ , the medic's verdict was quite clear," Murat's assistant interrupted. "No mortal man could have survived your wound, and you wouldn't have either, had the prince not intervened in unquestionably unorthodox ways… And so the Sultan had no choice but to punish him most severely"

"But…" There was suddenly a lump in the silver haired prince's throat, making every word painful. "It was all because… he did it because of me, they should have punished me!" he croaked. Tears stung his eyes and he fought to blink them away before Sümbül would notice. "Did they… is he dead?"

"Ah, no, _Allah korusun,_ but His Greatness the Sultan was determined to put the young Valah in his place once and for all, and so…well, this time he was taken to the dungeons and tortured until he finally said the words"

" _Words_? What do you mean, _beyefendi_? What words did he say?"

"' _I yield_ '. It is what all former enemies of the Empire must say if they are to receive the Sultan's pardon. Also, it is a pledge that from then onwards they will do nothing but his will and obey him in everything. Master mentioned that the young prince struggled a long time to resist, but eventually his strength left him…"

_Broken… they finally broke him… Oh my God! And all because… because of me…_

Sümbül looked up at the Prussian and instantly picked up on his chagrin. "Do not worry, _beyefendi_ , "he said softly, "Now that the prince said the words, all his troubles have ended. His Greatness has forgiven him and furthermore, he is now to be treated according to his true rank. Well, of course he is a hostage and cannot leave this place, but still…no harm will come upon him anymore"

Gilbert did not say anything in reply, but his jaw clenched ever so slightly, his whole body stiffened and he felt like he could barely breathe. As they entered Administrator Murat's apartments, the Prussian almost had a murderous look on his face. The fat powdered courtier was having a late afternoon snack, apparently one of many, and he did not bother to stop eating as the prince was brought before him.

"Ah, Gilbert Beilschmidt," he acknowledged, looking up from across the laden table and giving him a once over while continuing to stuff his face. His assistant had remained somewhere near the door, with his head humbly bowed, probably in a position that effectively allowed him to conceal his disgust. "You sure look much better than the last time we met. I hope you are in good health," Murat said.

"Yes, _teşekkürler_. I hope that you are too, _efendi_ " Gilbert replied with a deep bow, despite the fact that he wanted nothing else but to jump at the man's throat and strangle him with his bare hands. But then his attention was drawn to a happy familiar chirp and he glanced up to see Gilbird in a large, golden cage by the window. His heart sank, but he was also relieved that at least the little bird was cared for. The Turk followed his gaze and his lips curled into a malicious smirk.

"So, it turns out that I was right to assume that His Greatness would be merciful in your case, Gilbert," he pointed. "And now I was entrusted with the delicate task of finding you a job among my staff…" the Administrator added, pressing a napkin against his lips. "You surely understand my difficulty in this… for I am in doubt as to what kind of tasks would fit you best…"

The Prussian gulped, fighting hard against his growing anger and bitter humiliation, but he knew that at least for Gilbird's sake he should behave. "I will do whatever you shall ask of me, _efendi_ , and I shall do my very best not to disappoint you" he murmured.

"Oh yes, I am convinced that you shall," Murat agreed, and he struggled a bit until he managed to sit up from his cushions. He then walked up to where the prince was and circled him slowly, lost in thought, before stopping to his side and sneaking his hand up onto his shoulder. The Prussian stiffened under the touch.

"I was thinking that a man with your build, with your muscles, is surely not fit to carry trays of food, serve tea, to help me put on my gown or make my bed. And I can hardly picture a prince cleaning, sweeping and dusting, or in any way keeping this place in order," he added ironically motioning around and shaking his head. "No, and so the only option I can think of, taking into account your obvious abilities, is for you to be my personal guard"

"Your… personal guard?" _The bastard must be mocking me, he would never do that, would he?"_ You honor me, _efendi…"_

But Murat seemed to ignore his surprise and walked to a richly decorated piece of furniture, rummaging in a drawer and producing the Prussian's sword. "There," he said, ceremoniously handing it to the prince, "I put my life in your hands"

* * *

**Dictionary:**

**Allah korusun – Heaven forbid, Turkish**

**Teşekkürler – thank you, Turkish**

* * *


	16. Assignment

It had been a week from his appointment and Gilbert still did not know what to make of his new situation. There was no doubt about the fact that he hated it, but he had to admit that it could have been far worse. Above all, the prince no longer understood anything of what his new master was into. First the man had so skillfully plotted to have him poisoned, and now he'd given him such a trustworthy job? It made no sense, unless all that the fat courtier had really wanted was to have him removed from the Advisory Council, and since that had happened anyway, having the Prussian humiliated and at his disposal was enough satisfaction to him for now.

_But still… Murat has plenty of servants and guards, and he could have sent me in the service of another courtier… Unless there is something he still wants with me, unless there is a plan I'm not yet aware of…_

But if there was indeed some scheme conceived by the cunning Administrator, the Prussian had no means of finding out anything about it. His everyday job was awfully tedious – he had to follow Murat everywhere the courtier went around the palace, organizing the other servants and giving orders, and had to wait outside for him for hours whenever he went to private meetings or the Divan Hall.

The silver haired prince's only relief was in the two hours before Murat retired to bed, when he was being replaced by the Administrator's other guards and sent down to the Hall of Arms to practice. While he focused on and enjoyed exercise, the numerous thoughts that troubled him the rest of the time were kept away. That and the times when he could see Gilbird. Of course, he could not pet him anymore – it was forbidden to touch Murat's things, and the little golden canary now belonged to his master, but it was some comfort to know that he had him close and that he was taken care of.

He had tried to ask Sümbül _Aga_ about what was happening with his former servant, now _prince_ Valentin, but the Administrator's assistant was pretty much clueless. All he knew was that their master had visited the apartment where the prince now lived - or rather _was being kept_ – several times, but even to Sümbül's own disappointment, no word had slipped his lips about this. Needless to say, Gilbert found the secrecy surrounding the whole matter quite ominous.

* * *

"I have to say that I am quite pleased with how you did this week, Gilbert," Murat suddenly said between bites, bringing back his guard from his random thoughts. The Prussian was bored, and could hardly wait for his master to finish his dinner so that he could go away to his evening practice. The unexpected praise startled and instantly got him suspicious, but he did not have to wait long before the Administrator continued his idea.

"Indeed I had not expected someone in your position to be so compliant. I confess that I had braced myself for much worse, such that I was pleasantly surprised," the fat courtier said, toying with his fork. "Yes, fortunately you are not like your servant at all…"

Gilbert was under the impression that there was a glint of malice in Murat's eyes, but it lasted for only a second. "Speaking of which," he went on, in the same casual tone, "I have wondered… Well…"

"What have you wondered, _efendi_?" the prince asked neutrally, keeping his head bowed.

"You know, I'm not going to say that you are a weak man, Gilbert, that would be unfair but… anyone would agree that you have shown rather excessive kindness to the Valah dev-, I mean His Highness, despite all the trouble he has caused…" Murat shook his head, pushing his tray away. "And so I was naturally wondering if, given the chance, he would return the favor"

"Forgive me, _efendi_ , but I think that he has already returned the favor, when he saved my life." It was the right thing to say, but the prince mentally cursed himself, fearing that he'd opened Pandora's Box with the mention of that incident.

"Right, so he did," the Administrator agreed, "But like I said before, you are very naïve to think that he's done it for your sake or from some sense of gratitude. You know nothing about Valahs – this is how they are – proud, stubborn and with no regard for the rules or care about anyone but themselves. And that's why he's done it, precisely because His Greatness had asked him not to, it was meant to be a very specific slap in the Sultan's face"

The Prussian did not think it would have been a good idea to point out that his master's argument wasn't really holding, seeing how Valentin had been cruelly punished for it and that he'd known from the start what the consequences would be. He simply nodded.

"So, that being said, let's picture this little scenario – let's say I will appoint you to be his guard. And let's say it would be one of your responsibilities to make sure that, in his new situation, he behaves _exemplary_. All the more since he has already said _the words_ – honestly a miracle I am rather reluctant to believe in. Do you really think that he would refrain from beating whoever he can get his hands on, throwing things, cursing, being cheeky, rebellious and other such barbarian habits I can't even think of, and everything _just for you_?"

Saying that, Murat sunk into the large silk cushions with an amused expression, enjoying the prince's discomfort. But Gilbert's main concern was not whether the Romanian would really do all that for him, or whether he could somehow be able to keep him under control, but rather how to give a pleasing answer.

"I think… that maybe… given the circumstances… I could convince him to act reasonable…"

The Administrator snorted and laughed. "Always the hopeful, aren't you, Gilbert… But fine. And since you have been asking to see him anyway, let's put it to the test, shall we?"

* * *

 _Great! I had nothing better to do than to ask to see the little bastard! He knew what he was talking about when he asked me not to grow attached to him in any way, but did the awesome me listen? No, Heaven forbid!_ the prince continuously scolded himself. _"Everything is so complicated here… and not just here, everything happens behind my back and I don't know, I don't know…Hell, I didn't even know what my own 'father' was about…_ He suddenly felt stupid, small and insignificant.

The following evening, right after his copious dinner, Administrator Murat decided it was time for the Prussian to begin on his new assignment. Gilbert had initially thought that his master had only meant to scare or make fun of him, but when he saw that the man had actually been serious, fear gripped him.

 _This can't be good! Why is he asking this of me? Why would he possibly want me, a non-believer, anywhere near the prince now, after he said the words?_ The feeling that some bad thing was again about to happen without him being able to do anything about it was exasperating.

"Come now, this way," the Administrator urged, breaking his train of thoughts, although the Prussian had to keep adjusting his otherwise long strides not to leave the fat powdered courtier behind. Murat led the way into one of the other restricted areas of the palace, not very far from his own quarters. The silver haired prince noticed with a rather unsettling feeling that there were plenty of guards in the brightly lit marble corridors.

"Maybe His Highness will be pleased to see you," his master observed casually, as they walked, "but then again, he could very well throw his night pot in your head. If I were you I'd brace myself for this possibility as well," he added barely restraining a chuckle.

Gilbert knew that he should not have heeded Murat's malicious comment, but alongside his fear of the man's intentions, another suspicion crept into his mind, even more sinister – what if Valentin now really regretted saving his life? _Maybe he'd hoped for a quick death and instead… the worst thing he'd feared has come true… What if he hates me?_ If it truly was so, he knew that he could not bear it.

"Anyway, like I said, it will be your task to make sure he behaves – even if he was already told that, of course, if he doesn't he will be punished again," the Turk instructed. "Not that I place much hope in that… But above all you must make sure that he doesn't try to hurt himself. In fact, if anything should happen to the prince, I _will_ have your head. Do you understand?"

Gilbert nodded weakly."Yes, _efendi…_ "

The guards standing outside the large oak doors took a bow as Administrator Murat approached, and swung them open for him to pass through. The Prussian followed his master into a vast apartment with a view to the sea. It was already too dark outside to make anything past the curtains, but if he focused his hearing enough he could still distinguish the soothing sound of waves.

The fat courtier stopped in the middle of the first room and glanced around displeased. The chambers were beautifully decorated in shades of blue, green and silver, with velvet curtains and tapestries, and despite the abundance of furniture they were large enough to still be spacious.

"I told them to replace this rag!" Murat grumbled under his breath, kicking the edge of the carpet with his shoe. "His Greatness won't like it when he comes here… Do I really have to do everything myself?"

Right then an old man came out from the adjacent room and Gilbert recognized him to be the chief doctor of the palace. He walked slowly, barely dragging his legs, a thing which seemed to annoy Murat further, and took a deep bow.

" _Sehzade nasıl?"_ he asked impatient. The doctor sighed softly. " _Iyi. O dinleniyor…_ "

The Administrator frowned. _"O hala uyuyor? Ama, bu iyi mi?"_

" _Evet, efendim. Padişah artık acı hissetmek şehzade emretti… böylece biz onu afyon vermek zorunda kaldı_ "

" _Tamam…_ " He made a dismissal gesture and the doctor left them.

Gilbert took a deep breath, trying to calm the erratic pounding of his heart. "Forgive me, _efendi_ , but… what exactly is His Highness' state? Is he… crippled or anything? I'm only asking to know how-" He stopped abruptly, not wanting to know the answer, but it was obvious that he would have to face it anyway.

"Crippled? Well, that would have surely made things easier," the Administrator observed, "But no. The tortures he was subjected to were not meant to cause any lasting damage, merely to inflict the right amount of pain…But believe it or not, that was not the most effective part. So His Greatness decided to apply the same punishment to him as his father did on a couple of other occasions with young hostages…"

Saying that, Murat's mood improved visibly and suddenly Gilbert feared that he was about to hear something terrible. He shook his head, not really knowing how to act. "I'm afraid I don't know what you speak of, _efendi_ …" he said cautious.

The Turk now grinned. "Of course you don't – for if it had been applied to you as well, maybe you would have been able to pay for your gambling debt," he said rather amused. "Though I suppose it would have taken a lot of 'work' from your part, two hundred _akce_ are not so easy to make"

"I-I don't understand…"

"Well it's simple - his body was sold for money, to anyone from the Court who was willing and had enough coin, and they were plenty… Unfortunately, it so happened that they were a bit rough with His Highness, and hence his poor condition…"

Gilbert's knees instantly went weak and a wave of nausea washed over him. Anger choked him and under his large overcoat his right hand flew to the handle of his sword, as he fought with himself. _Don't move! Keep your mouth shut! Keep your mouth shut! Maybe it's not true, maybe he's lying to test you, or to drive you mad! The Sultan wouldn't do that to him, he's his brother, for God's sake!_

But just as he mentally repeated the words he knew they weren't true. The fat fuck would not have looked so pleased if it were a lie, and as for Sadiq's love for his stepbrother, he knew it well to be beyond his understanding. He took another deep breath, trying to find his voice, and decided not to care whether his master observed how troubled he really was.

"Well then… either way, I don't think that my task will be very difficult, at least as long as he will take to recover… But I will take care, just like you ordered, _efendi_ "

Gilbert was almost pleased with how blank and emotionless his voice had sounded, just as if it had belonged to a soulless corpse. If Murat was surprised or disappointed by his lack of reaction, he did not show it.

"Good then. You know what to do" With that he turned on his heels and walked away.

* * *

**Dictionary:**

**Sehzade nasıl? – How is the prince?,** _**Turkish**_

**Iyi. O dinleniyor – Good. He's resting,** _**Turkish** _

**O hala uyuyor?** **Ama, bu iyi mi? – He's still asleep? But, is this good?,** _**Turkish** _

**Evet, şah artık acı hissetmek şehzade emretti… böylece biz onu afyon vermek zorunda kaldı - Yes, sir. The Sultan ordered the prince to feel no more pain ... so we had to give him opium,** _**Turkish** _

**Tamam – Alright,** _**Turkish**_

* * *


	17. Shared

Gilbert remained motionless in the middle of the room for quite a while after Administrator Murat left, not knowing what to do and almost regretting that he'd been left alone like this. From time to time he glanced in the direction of the bedroom where he did not yet dare enter. _What if he does hate me? Or just ignore me? I couldn't take it… not from him as well…_

Eventually, as it was getting late and his feet were aching from how much he'd been standing during the day, the Prussian decided that the least he could do was to sit down somewhere. But knowing that he couldn't avoid _it_ for much longer anyway, he headed with soft steps towards the other room.

It was smaller but more comfortable than the first, and the fire in the large fireplace was spreading pleasant warmth and glow in the otherwise dark room. But the first thing that drew the prince's attention was the bed placed on one side, near the window, and his heart sank. Valentin seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but he looked awfully weak and fragile, even paler than usual and there were dark shadows around his closed eyes. His skin was otherwise flawless, his beautiful features unmarred, but somehow that made everything even more horrible.

 _It's all my fault, my fault, he was put through hell just for saving my life! What could I possibly do to repay him for that?_ Swallowing a painful lump in his throat, Gilbert leaned and pulled up the soft blanket, covering the Romanian better. If only there was something he could do… but he was so helpless, helpless!

However, the Prussian was not the kind of man that would waste too much time on useless laments that were of no use to anyone. If it turned out that there was something he could actually do for his former servant, he decided that he would do it without hesitation, no matter what. With those somewhat soothing thoughts in mind, he flung himself onto the small sofa next to his new master's bed and fell asleep.

* * *

It was still quite early in the morning when a servant came in to bring more firewood and to pull the curtains. Pale daylight invaded the chambers, almost instantly waking Gilbert, who let out a grumbled swear as was his morning habit, but without opening his eyes. As the man left and he could hear no other movement around, the prince allowed himself to doze off for another few minutes.

But since his sleep had already been chased away, he did not take long to fully wake up. Upon opening his eyes, his gaze slipped lazily out the window and met nothing but the cloud laden winter sky above the endless roaring sea. _It must be beautiful in the summer, or whenever the sun shines…_ the Prussian caught himself thinking, no doubt as a means to sweeten the disappointment of the rather depressing view. Deciding to pay no more attention to that, he turned slowly, and his heart very nearly jumped out of his chest.

Valentin was awake, and seemed to have been so for a while, but he wasn't looking at him. The blonde simply stared blankly out the window, completely ignoring his surroundings.

"Vali?" Gilbert whispered, quite fearful and not really knowing what to say. He stood up from the sofa and walked slowly to the side of the bed, almost expecting his new master to flinch and shrug away from him. He really wished that there was something he could say to comfort him, even a bit, but sadly the Prussian knew he was no good at such things.

"I'm sorry…" the other boy breathed, his voice weak and coarse, and the prince refused to even think why it was like that. "I…never wanted to drag you into my hell…"

No, this wasn't true! He could not be hearing that, could he? "No, Vali… don't say that. You've done nothing wrong, it's me! Everything is my damned fault! If you hadn't saved me…" the Prussian pleaded, kneeling on the floor. "Please just… just look at me!" he begged, tears already stinging his eyes.

The Romanian blinked slowly, with a tired expression, but still did not look away from the window. "I can't, Gilbert, and you shouldn't look at me either. Not after what happened and what I've become… how could you even look at me now with anything but disgust?"

Gilbert would have given anything not to see the defeat that was in the endless sadness of his pale features and in the faint sound of his voice – it simply broke his heart.

" _I_ should look at you with disgust? I who was abandoned by my own father as the worthless thing that I am? I…I don't even know who I am anymore, and I've got nothing left but the life you have given me! You are my prince, Valentin," he murmured choking, and he took the strawberry blonde's hand in his own, bringing it to his lips. He inwardly shuddered at how weak and fragile it felt to the touch, cradled in his large palms.

Valentin sniffed and sighed, finally turning his face towards him. "You look strange in these clothes… I could hardly realize it was you…"

The Prussian nodded slowly. 'Look strange' was an understatement – he hated these clothes, they were like a new reminder of his lost identity. "Yeah well… it seems that I am your servant now. That and all my things were taken," he admitted reluctantly, still holding the other boy's hand in his and rubbing it gently with his thumbs.

"Wait…" the younger prince suddenly said, struggling to sit up higher on the pillows. "You mean… I thought…you were like this because… What did you say about your father?"

Gilbert bit his lower lip, uncomfortable. It was bad enough as it was, that the bitterness was still eating at him, that the wound was still fresh, he didn't know if he could talk about it with anyone just yet. "I-I feel so ashamed about it, Vali," he eventually confessed, "I feel like… like I'm nothing, he left me here to…" The prince took a deep breath and stood up, letting go of the Romanian's hand. "I don't know, they could have had my head for this, or I could have very well been left to rotten in that dungeon, but he didn't care… He broke the agreement with the Sultan, and he's going to marry Elizaveta…" After all, it wasn't much to be said. Endlessly painful, but not much – a few words were all it took to sum up his misery.

"Who, your father?"

"Yes." The Prussian snorted, running a hand through his hair. "But it kind of makes sense, don't you think? I mean, she has a kingdom, what do _I_ have? At least he screwed me over a kingdom, it's… it's logic"

"But you're his son!" the blonde protested with a scowl. "And why would he want to associate himself in any way with Elizaveta? Everyone knows she's insane! Even the Pope said…"

"I don't know, I suppose he must have some kind of plan that's beyond my comprehension. And a king must be a king to his people before he is a father to his children, a brother to his siblings or a husband to his wife…" the prince recited dryly, already feeling exhausted by the subject. Only then it occurred to him that probably Sadiq had hid behind the same wise line when he'd decided to torture his brother in that horrible way.

"But why are you ashamed of it?"

 _Well, there's no point in holding on to my pride now, is it? I might just as well let it all out_ … "Vali, the thing is… actually there's something I only realized while I was down there, in the dungeons…I think…I think that he may not be my father after all…"

Valentin tried to sit up fully a bit too fast, but he grimaced in obvious pain and dropped back on the pillows with a loud huff. "But why? Why do you think that now?"

They were interrupted when a servant walked in with a tray of food for breakfast. The prince hurried to take it from the man's hands and set it carefully on the small table near the bed, quite amazed by the abundance of dishes. The servant then took a bow and retreated, and Gilbert glanced past his shoulder to see if Murat wasn't by any chance nearby. Fortunately, there was no sign of the fat courtier.

"What?" the Romanian wanted to know.

"Nothing. You should eat now, you look so weak" But the blonde sighed and placed his hand over the prince's gently. "Gilbert… what is it? What were you about to say?"

"I don't know for sure but… I am his first born, Vali! But did he give me his name? No. My brother and I have the same mother, that's for sure, but do I look even remotely like him? No. Did the king ever show me any love, like he did my brother, or the slightest bit of affection? No. See, there's a lot of no-s out there…" There was no anger in his words as he spoke, now it was all gone, it had subsided to a dull ache. "And when Murat asked-"

"Wait, what did Murat ask? What does he have to do with anything?"

"Well he was the one who came down there to explain to me why I was imprisoned. And he asked whether I was the king's son after all… If you think of it, it does sound like a pretty reasonable question. What father would do that to his son, king or no king? So now I'm left not really knowing who my father is," Gilbert concluded, pushing the tray closer. "Now please, you must eat something, Murat said that you haven't in quite a while"

"Very concerned with my wellbeing, is he now?"Valentin sighed, sinking lower into his pillow and closing his eyes. "I'm sorry, my throat is sore, I don't think I can eat anything just yet…"

"Here, some honeyed milk will do you good," the Prussian said, filling up a small cup and, since the Romanian made no move to grab it, he brought it to his lips and helped him take several sips. "And yes, apparently he is quite concerned. In fact, he ordered that I take very good care of you"

"Yeah I know, I'm not allowed to do anything… he's let me know that already"

Gilbert reached out to brush a few strands of hair off the Romanian's forehead and sighed. "It's not like that, Vali. He fears that you might try to… well to hurt yourself. That's why he wanted me to keep an eye on you at all times. And to make sure that you behave properly, now that you _have said the words_. Also, he said that if you need anything-"

He stopped abruptly, under the impression that the blonde was no longer paying attention. The younger prince seemed to be either lost in thought or too fatigued to follow.

"What does he want, Gilbert?" he suddenly whispered.

The unexpected question made the silver haired prince flinch and he instantly cast a wary glance around to make sure, as much as he could, that no one was eavesdropping on them. "What do you mean?" Truth be told, he had asked himself the same question, but without reaching any clear conclusion.

"You just mentioned it," Valentin replied in the same low voice, "He said that if I need anything…well since when does he care so much about me? And all his plans… he did everything to have you killed, and yet here you are now, alive and unharmed. Why? What has changed?"

"But Vali, everything has changed – I lost my position in the Advisory Council, and you were brought to submission by the Sultan. Isn't that what they wanted all along?"

"Maybe… I don't know anymore… somehow I just don't think _they_ all want the same thing…"

Gilbert sighed. "You shouldn't trouble yourself with these things now, you're still in need of rest. I have a feeling that we'll get to the bottom of this anyway, whether we like it or not…"

* * *


	18. Gift and visit

Things weren't the greatest, but Gilbert felt more peaceful. The weight which had been pressing so heavily upon his heart was gone – Valentin held no grudge against him as he'd feared until then. He still felt rather guilty for everything that had happened with his former servant and pained by the issue with his father, but they had all somehow faded like old scars once he'd talked to the younger prince. He did think though that maybe he should not have felt so much at ease, seeing how the Romanian was still in a bad state, not as much physically as emotionally, and they were both fully in Murat's grasp.

The next few days passed uneventfully and rather boring for the Prussian, since he had nowhere to go now and was confined to the Romanian's chambers most of the time. He could still go for practice for two hours in the evening, yet that was quite boring too on his own, and he hoped that his new master would be able to join him soon. Until then, he took care of the blonde as best as he could – and that consisted mainly on keeping him company and convincing him to eat properly and to get enough rest. The subject of opium was sort of concerning for the silver haired prince, but in this respect his efforts of trying to convince Valentin to smoke less _nargile_ had provenfruitless. Otherwise, things were as good as always between them, and, despite the obvious risks of being discovered, Gilbert had been sneaking up into the other boy's bed in the evenings and had held him tightly in his arms until the blonde had fallen asleep.

* * *

However, his relatively peaceful time was brought to an end on the seventh day, when he was summoned to Administrator Murat's apartments. His stomach instinctively cringed in fear at the news, and Valentin's question came once more to his mind. What if it was more than an unjustified suspicion and the courtier really wanted something? Ever since the _hammam_ incident, Gilbert had suspected that perhaps Murat wanted his former servant in his bed, but now? Even if it had been true, it couldn't have been more than a temporary whim which – he strongly suspected - had already been satisfied during the punishment. So if it really was something, it must have been something else… But what?

The Prussian observed Sümbül Aga as the assistant walked graciously beside him, and wondered whether it would have been a good idea to ask him about it. But as much as he was informed on what was going on around the palace, Sümbül might have not been so aware of his master's personal plans, and the prince had no desire to arouse the man's curiosity and stir the shit in any way.

The Administrator greeted Gilbert with an air of studied indifference which failed to fool him and only increased his overall feeling of uneasiness.

"You wanted to see me, _efendi_?" he asked cautious, unable to read anything on the courtier's powdered features. Murat nodded slowly and made a dismissal gesture in Sümbül Aga's direction, waiting for his assistant to walk away and out of hearing range before he eventually spoke.

"Yes, I wanted to know how are things with His Highness," the Turk replied neutrally, as if he weren't really curious about it. "So, tell me everything, _haydi_ "

"His Highness is quite fine _efendi_ , and he was no trouble at all so far," the Prussian recited monotonously." The doctors come to see him regularly and he still sleeps most of the time, but…" _Valentin will be angry with me if they take away his nargile because of me, but damn it - it's for his own good!_

"But what? Is he not behaving properly? Or maybe he is refusing food?" Murat still looked disinterested, but there was a hidden hint of menace in his tone.

"Oh no, _efendi_! He is quite compliant, I didn't have any problems with that. Well… as you already know, the doctors have recommended opium for the pains but… whenever he is awake he smokes _nargile_ quite a lot and I am concerned that it might be bad for him…"

Murat sighed and dropped onto his sofa, with a tired air. " _Allah, Allah_ … indeed that is not good. I don't know if for his health necessarily, but His Greatness will not be happy about it when he will come to visit his brother. You see, now that prince Valentin has said the words, he is expected to accept and embrace his new life. But if he spends most of his time _not being quite there_ … this is not acceptance. Do you understand, Gilbert?"

The Prussian flinched. _Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut! But then if the Sultan had discovered it himself, it would have probably been worse…Fucking hell, I don't know… "_ Yes _, efendi…_ " he replied in the most submissive voice he could muster and breathed in relief as the Administrator's cold stare seemed to soften a bit.

"Good then. If you have nothing else to tell me, then I shall pay the prince a visit myself later today. You can retire now"

* * *

It was bad and Gilbert knew it. He kept thinking that it had been wrong to inform Murat about the Romanian's unfortunate habit, but then again, it couldn't really be concealed. Apart from that, he now had to fear the strawberry blonde's reaction at the news. Besides voicing his suspicions about the man, Valentin had been reluctant to talk about anything that involved Murat, and the Prussian had a feeling that he would be even less thrilled to see him in person.

 _Fucking hell!_ he mentally cursed as he walked back as fast as his legs could carry him. _I have to talk to him beforehand, and make sure he doesn't do anything to step on the fat bastard's nerves – that would get him punished again and I couldn't take it…_ But of course, it was easier said than done. He knew that the strawberry blonde had quite a bad temper, and he doubted that temper had been in any way suppressed by his current state of depression. If anything, it had probably gotten worse.

When he arrived back to the prince's chambers Valentin was asleep again. A faint smile bloomed on his rough features as he glanced down at the 'Valah devil' – he looked so innocent in his sleep. The Prussian reached and he brushed the tips of his fingers against the other boy's cheek in a tender caress. He did not dare more, because there were other servants around, but hell, how he wanted to kiss him, to touch him so much more. And he knew for sure now that it was way more than just the physical thing he'd felt in the beginning for the little nasty piece of work of a person that was Valentin, no, it was a genuine affection, maybe it even was… no, he did not dare say _that word_.

"Vali, we need to talk," he said gently when the blonde eventually woke up. "I went to see Administrator Murat in the morning"

The Romanian instantly frowned at hearing the name. "What? Why?"

"He summoned me. Obviously, he wanted to know how you were and if it was safe to come and pay you a visit," the silver haired prince replied with a brief grin.

"Right… since he cares so much," Valentin said dryly, staring blankly out the window. Gilbert was thankful that at least he did not ask for the nargile right away.

"He cares about pleasing the Sultan, and he wants to make sure everything's in order before His Greatness shows up here himself. Because I'm afraid that he will at some point, you know? It can't be avoided… So he will come to see you later today, and please, please Vali, just try to… I don't know, act as if you didn't want to rip his head off"

The Romanian let out a loud breath and shifted between the covers, hauling himself up a little higher on the pillows. "I know he will come, Gilbert. The Sultan, I mean. But before that, before he shows up to utter any soothing words, as I'm sure he will attempt, he wants to make sure that I know and won't forget what I'm about"

The Prussian nodded and sighed. "Do you think that's why he's sent Murat to check on you?"

"No, that's why he sent _that_. It was brought while you were away"

Gilbert's gaze followed the direction pointed by Valentin's outstretched finger and upon the discovery he froze in his place, fighting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and not see anything anymore. A clear crystal bowl had been placed on the marble slab above the large fireplace, in plain view. It was half filled with golden coins. Involuntarily, he scrubbed a hand over his face. "Vali…"

But the Romanian wasn't paying attention to him anymore, and his gaze had strayed away again, over the seascape visible outside. The window was slightly ajar and the prince saw that he was focusing on inhaling the salty, fresh air pouring into the heated room, even if a freezing, biting wind came along with it. It was the scent of his lost freedom.

* * *

Neither of them had much time for profound reflections, as shortly a servant walked in, announcing the arrival of Administrator Murat. Gilbert cursed and hurried to close the window, observing the expression on the blonde's face, only to discover it was surprisingly emotionless. The fat powdered courtier slipped past the heavy velvet curtains and into the room, and the Prussian noticed with disgust that his fake sweet smile from the old days was again plastered on his face.

"Leave us," he ordered determinedly, waving his hand vaguely in the silver haired prince's direction, yet his voice was still incredibly smooth and polite. The Prussian took a deep bow and retreated into the other room, but the moment he was out of sight he quickly hid behind the curtains, where he could still hear everything.

"Your Highness," Murat began, and by the creak of a chair the Prussian guessed he must have sat down. "I came as soon as I heard that you were well enough. I am pleased to say that you do look much better, too"

"Thank you…"

"I hope you like this room, it was chosen for you especially since it has such an excellent view," the Administrator went on in the same good humored tone, "But I am guessing that Your Highness must be getting terribly bored in here, and with such poor company…"

Gilbert let out a muffled swear.

"I'm alright… And since I must stay in bed, there's nothing I could do anyway…" Valentin's voice was low and tired, but there was no trace of aggression or sarcasm in it, as he'd feared. The prince let out a breath of relief.

"Of course, of course," Murat agreed, "Yet you must, but the doctors say that very soon you will be fully recovered and-" The courtier stopped abruptly and there was a rather long, worrying pause before he spoke again. "What is that?"

"His Greatness sent it this morning…" the Romanian replied in the same emotionless tone and Gilbert guessed that the Turk must have spotted the accursed crystal bowl, the presence of which he had not been previously informed. For a while that seemed quite long to the Prussian, the Administrator didn't know what to say, or was pondering for some clever line.

"Maybe… we should put that away, Your Highness, we could-"

"No, leave it there," the blonde interrupted him, softly but firmly, "If the Sultan wants it there, then there it must remain. He wants to make sure I won't forget what I am"

"What you are?" The courtier sounded confused. "What does that have to do…"

"I'm not supposed to forget how I made all that money"

Indeed, the Sultan's intention was quite plain, and Gilbert wondered what Murat could possibly say to try to sweeten that.

"Your Highness, please!" the courtier suddenly pleaded in a choked voice. "Stop tormenting yourself with such thoughts, I can't bear to see you like this! It's over, it's all over! And you must stop smoking the damned opium, it's probably giving you nightmares, please!" he cried. The sheer fakeness of the scene turned the Prussian's stomach and he snorted, almost loud enough to be heard in the other room.

"I promise to do my best to chase away the dark thoughts that are haunting you. As soon as you get well, I will arrange for you to go outside, to fresh air! And I also thought of someone I want you to meet, someone who might amuse you!" And he continued with some similar supposedly soothing blabber for quite a while, until he probably got the clue that the young prince was too tired and needed to be left alone.

"Awfully thoughtful and caring, isn't he now?" Valentin concluded, as soon as the Administrator was eventually gone. "I told you he wants something…"

And Gilbert had to agree on that.

* * *


	19. About love

As they were expecting, Sadiq did come eventually. By that time Vali had gotten a lot better already and he was no longer bedridden. It had taken quite a lot for him to recover fully though, and Gilbert knew it would have happened much faster if only he had been given blood. But of course, telling that to anyone was out of the question, _magic_ was out of the question, it could only stay between the two of them. In this purpose, the Prussian had tried to capture some of the countless pigeons that were everywhere on the palace terraces and in the interior gardens, even now in wintertime, but the damned birds had proven much too fast for him to get his hands on. Seeing how that had failed, Gilbert had tried to offer the Romanian a bit of his own blood, but the strawberry blonde had firmly refused.

It was still early in the morning, and Gilbert had taken the empty breakfast tray out of the bedroom for the other servants to pick up. When he returned, he found Valentin leaning over the sill of the widely opened window, staring somewhere down. A wave of panic washed over the prince, and he rushed over, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

„Vali, what are you doing?" he nearly shouted, glancing down in turn at the dark waves which were smashing furiously against the sharp pointed cliffs at the foot of the walls.

„I was just looking, Gilbert," the Romanian replied with a soft sigh, but made no move to free himself from the other's grip. "Not a very pretty sight, is it?"

"Hell no," the Prussian agreed. "It would be one nasty fall all the way down there…"

"Huh… Well they did pick my room especially after all, to make sure that I won't be going anywhere. Not in one piece and breathing anyway"

Gilbert did not get the chance to say something in reply, because right then a servant walked in to announce the Sultan's arrival, and he had to let go of the blonde and quickly put some distance between them. He kneeled and bowed his head just in time to see a set of midnight blue silk robes slipping past the curtains. Unlike with Murat's visit, nobody bothered to send him out this time. Sadiq found servants way too insignificant to care whether they heard what he said, and he wasn't a man to talk a lot and in a loud voice.

Valentin kneeled slowly in turn and grabbed the hem of Sadiq's robes to bring them to his lips, and the Prussian noticed that he was almost inconspicuously trembling. _And who could blame him…_

" _Korkma,_ " the Sultan said, motioning for him to stand up and tilting his chin up with two fingers. " _Sen neden burada olduğumu biliyorsun…"_ Gilbert could not see the partially masked face, as Sadiq had his back turned on him,but that soft, husky voice sounded horrifying enough as it was. There was an endless terror hidden behind that gentle whisper, one that he could not name, yet it was there, awfully present and almost palpable.

Sadiq's hand rose and was pressed against the left side of the Romanian's chest, over the light shirt. The olive skinned, slender fingers were slightly curled, as if attempting to grab and claw at the flesh beneath. " _Bu vahşi kalbin, bunu hissetmek istiyorum... Bilmek istiyorum ise bu bana ait,_ " he demanded, causing his half-brother to flinch, backing against the wall, and his gaze trailed over to the bowl of golden coins.

" _Ne? Bunu nasıl sorabilirsin?_ _Seni unutmak düşünüyor musun?_ "

The Sultan sighed and removed his hand. _"Hayır… Ben ceza zalim olduğunu biliyorum, ama sen bunu hak. Ama bütün bunlara rağmen, seni sevdiğimi bilmeni_ "

There was a long pause while Valentin took a deep breath and he looked like he was about to cry. When he eventually spoke, his voice was shaking with unshed tears and he avoided Sadiq's gaze. " _İstediğiniz cevabı…_ _Bu biraz zaman alacak.."_ Hisolder brother nodded slowly, then leaned in and kissed his forehead _. "Tamam…"_ Saying that, heturned around and left the room without another word, while the younger prince slumped towards the floor, hugging his knees.

"Vali? Are you alright?" the Prussian asked standing up carefully. His back hurt like hell.

The Romanian sniffed, resting his forehead against his knees. "No. He presses for an answer I cannot give… and even if he's agreed to give me some more time, his patience will eventually wear out… And then what? I could simply tell him what he wants to hear, but he can smell lies and then it would be even worse!"

"But I don't understand!" Gilbert said, frowning. "What answer does he still want from you? Have you not _said the words_ already?"

"He wants me to love him as a brother, Gilbert, but… You see, he… for him… for the Sultans actually, power and the absolute obedience of the others are more important than _anything_ , and so he would not hesitate to hurt anyone, even from his… well, true family if he felt in any way betrayed or disobeyed by them. So, even if we weren't enemies, even if his people hadn't hurt my people, or his family hadn't hurt mine, I could still not give him the answer he wants, because I don't understand his love and I don't want to share it. It's just so _wrong_ , and it frightens me!"

* * *

The rest of the day passed rather peacefully, until the evening came and with it an unpleasant guest – Administrator Murat. As of late, the fat powdered courtier seemed to be in an uncharacteristic good and pleasing mood which, if anything, made him even more irritating. At the news of him coming, Valentin's frowned gaze trailed towards a China vase and Gilbert already envisaged it smashed to pieces on the stone floor.

"I could tell him that you don't feel well, and that he should come back another time…" he suggested warily, but the Romanian sighed and stood up from the bed. "No, Gilbert, let him come. I want to find out what he wants, the sooner the better. He's been nice enough so far, I suppose that now he will say it"

"Ah, Your Highness! I am happy to see that you are so much better!" the courtier chirped. "Alas, I see that you are awfully pale, and no wonder – you've been in this room for much too long. That's why I've come to take you for a little walk outside, in the main garden. It's not that cold tonight"

"Um… what? You mean… outside? But…" Valentin stuttered, sitting back down on the bed. He suddenly looked exhausted and a tad scared.

"What is the matter, Your Highness?" Murat asked, preoccupied. "Do you feel too weak to walk yet? I promise not to strain you…"

"No, but… what if someone sees me, _beyefendi_ Murat? What if they point at me, or even say something? I couldn't take it…" the Romanian murmured, burying his face in his hands. The Administrator looked positively terrified.

" _Allah, Allah korusun_!" he exclaimed, sitting down beside the prince and gently putting at arm around the boy's slumped shoulders. "How can you say such a thing? Who would dare?" The blonde didn't answer. "Besides, I will be with you! Nothing bad will happen, and some fresh air will do you good, _haydi_ …" the fat courtier reassured Valentin, helping him to his feet. He then took a soft sable fur from the arms of the servant he'd brought with him and cast it around the prince's shoulders. "There, to keep you warm"

Much to Gilbert's annoyance, once they were outside in the main garden the Administrator took the younger prince's arm in his in a very familiar manner. He assumed that Valentin was probably employing all his self restraint not to shove the man away in disgust. As they walked, Murat pulled the Romanian a bit further away from the Prussian and the other servant who was accompanying them.

"You Highness," he began in the same sweet tone, "I must confess that I've brought you here also because I wanted to speak to you, if possible away from the prying ears that might be inside the palace…"

"You have done well, _beyefendi,_ " the blonde agreed. "By all means, speak openly"

"Very well then… Your Highness, I know that you are probably concerned about your current situation. You probably feel… trapped, stuck, without any perspectives of the future. Is that not so?"

The prince sighed. "Future? Is there any future?"

"Ah, but of course there is! Things may look grim now, but you are very young still, and in time everything will work out just fine," the courtier assured him. "Have you heard of Ali Cahit Pasha? He was one of Selim Sultan's favorites, one of his greatest generals, but very few remember today his true story. That was not even his real name, for he was a Mameluke emir - by his birth name Fadil Alhusayn - and in his youth he had fought long and hard against the Empire. But then he was captured and convinced _to say the words_. Soon after, he gained the Sultan's favor and gradually he rose to important position and great power…"

"What exactly are you telling me, _beyefendi_ Murat? Valentin asked, a bit suspicious.

"Only that it could be the same for you, Your Highness. Think about it – you are the Sultan's brother, not to mention that as a warrior you have quite the reputation. His Greatness already harbors an un-doubtable affection for you, and now that you have _said the words_ … It will take a bit of time until things settle and then you will see that things will come around in your favor. His Greatness wants to have you close, all you have to do is behave and please him"

"Well… I wish I could be as confident as you about it..."

Murat stopped and he gently took the Romanian's hand in his own. "You should have all the confidence about it, Your Highness. All I can hope is that when it happens, you shall not forget who is your most humble servant and your truest friend…" he said, bringing it to his lips.

* * *

"Well, that makes it all clear now," the blonde concluded, as he slid the fur off his shoulders and dropped it randomly on a chair. "Did you hear that? He wants to be _my most humble servant and my truest friend_." He snorted, shaking his head. "In fact, that's what he wanted all along, ever since I was brought here. He is an ambitious man, and he's no longer happy with his current position"

"Huh…" Gilbert said in reply, scratching his head. "So do you think it might be true what he said then – that he paid _bahşiş_ for a position in the Advisory Council? It is unlikely though - I doubt that he's ever had any military experience - so I don't think there was ever any chance for him to be accepted"

The younger prince chewed his lower lip, lost in thought. "It may be partially true. But either he has not paid enough _bahşiş,_ or he hasn't paid it to the right people, after all the hierarchy is rather complicated. That being said, the Sultan's affection for me must have looked like a wonderful opportunity for him to exploit, but he had to get me cornered and helpless first, and then he could offer me protection and in the same time compel me into submission. However, he was thwarted in his pursuits when the Sultan decided to make me your servant, because you still had some power and he thought I'd hide behind your back. That's why he has done everything he could to keep us apart and turn us against each other, and ultimately tried to get rid of you for good"

The Prussian took a deep breath and plopped down on the sofa. "Well, what can I say? One can only admire his perseverance…"

"Yeah…" Valentin said, with a wry smile. "Listen, I want to go to the _hammam_ tonight. Do you think you could dig after some fresh clothes?" Gilbert flinched, genuinely surprised. "But Vali… are you sure? What if… I don't know…" he trailed off, not really knowing what to say.

"It's quite late now, I don't think there's anyone left there, and I need a proper bath," the blonde replied, even if he didn't look thrilled by the perspective either. "Not to mention that for some reason I feel particularly dirty today…"

The Prussian mentally cursed, since no matter how many times he'd been there, it had remained a place of horrors, and now it was even worse. Ever since his release from prison he'd only used the servants' _hammam_ , which was quite safe, but it was obvious that his master could not go there. And the thought of meeting anyone… _Fucking hell, I hope he's right and they've all gone by now!_ He hurried to pick up a bundle of fresh clothing for the younger prince before his determination would go down the drain and they both headed there reluctantly. It turned out that they were unexpectedly in luck – there was no one in sight, probably due to the late hour.

Assuming that his master was still in somewhat of a tender mood, Gilbert turned away and allowed the Romanian his privacy while the other boy removed his garments and stepped into the steamy basin. Yet Valentin seemed relaxed enough, propping his shoulders and head on the warm marble behind him and closing his eyes.

"Gilbert? Tell me something…"

"Hmmm? What?"

"I don't know, anything… I just need to get my mind off everything I've heard today…"

"Um… I…" the silver haired prince stuttered, his eyes trained on the blonde's lips as he was chewing on a piece of flavored tobacco, as his mind was suddenly invaded by a certain memory. "I just remembered-" _Fuck! I can't tell him that, especially not now, after what he's been through! Stop thinking about it, just stop!_

"What?"

"Nothing, it's… I can't tell you… Actually it's about a moment when I embarrassed my awesome self big time," he blurted out awkwardly. "Well, almost embarrassed myself, but anyway, it was bad enough"

"In here?"

"Oh come on, Vali! You already know I'm an idiot, there's no need for me to illustrate it further!" Gilbert pointed rather flustered, and the Romanian burst into laughter. The Prussian could not help smiling in turn, he'd feared he would never see Valentin laugh again. "Well, what was it?"

"Uh… the truth is… the night after we came here together for the first time and you had that little 'accident', I had a funny dream… and then I suddenly woke up and I thought you'd heard everything… It was terrible, terrible!"

Suddenly, the blonde's eyes snapped open and he looked at his servant questioningly. "A _funny_ dream? You mean…?"

"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry…" the older prince grumbled embarrassed, looking away and eventually burying his face in his hands. He almost flinched when delicate fingers pulled his hands away. "Gilbert… um….would you still…?" Valentin was holding his breath a bit, looking up at him rather shyly. In response, the Prussian simply crushed their lips together, and almost instantly found himself pulled into the basin fully clothed.

"Whoa, Vali! What the-?"

"Tch! Barbarian, you can't bathe with your clothes on…" the blonde said teasingly, mimicking the Administrator's voice with a playful smirk. "Take them off, _haydi_ …"

"Is that so?" Gilbert asked, raising an eyebrow. "Mhmmm…" the Romanian replied, beginning to unbutton his shirt. "But Vali, are you sure…? I don't want to hurt you… And what if someone sees us?"

"I'm fine, and now stop wasting time!" Valentin pulled his neck down and captured his mouth again, fingers digging wantonly into the other prince's now bare skin. Without breaking the kiss, the Prussian reached down and grabbed Valentin by the back of his thighs, lifting him up and propping his back against the hot tiles. The younger prince wrapped his legs around his waist and eased himself slowly onto his hard member, tensing a bit _._

"Ah, Vali..." Gilbert moaned, burying his nose in the crook of the other boy's neck and relishing in the taste of his heated skin. He began to move slowly, trying to be as gentle as possible, but soon lost his restraint and went harder, urged by the soft, sensual moans his actions were eliciting. A few strong thrusts later Valentin came with a loud gasp, fangs biting deep into his lower lip, and the wonderfully tightened muscles almost immediately sent his servant over the edge as well.

"Vali, I think… I think… I love you…" he blurted out, half choking with emotion.

Slender fingers tangled into his silver strands, caressing softly. "I think I love you too, Gilbert…"

* * *

**Dictionary:**

**Korkma - Don't be afraid,** _**Turkish** _

**Sen neden burada olduğumu biliyorsun – You know why I'm here** _**, Turkish** _

**Bu vahşi kalbin, bunu hissetmek istiyorum... Bilmek istiyorum ise bu bana ait – This wild heart, I want to feel it... I want to know if it belongs to me,** _**Turkish** _

**Ne? Bunu nasıl sorabilirsin? Seni unutmak düşünüyor musun? – What? How can you ask that? Do you think I can forget?** _**, Turkish** _

**Hayir… Ben ceza zalim olduğunu biliyorum, ama sen bunu hak – No… I know that the punishment was cruel, but you deserved it, Turkish**

**Ama bütün bunlara rağmen, seni sevdiğimi bilmeni – But despite all this, you know that I love you,** _**Turkish** _

**İstediğiniz cevabı…** **Bu biraz zaman alacak - The answer you want… it will take some time,** _**Turkish** _

**Tamam – Alright** _**, Turkish** _

**Allah korusun – Heaven forbid** _**, Turkish** _

* * *


	20. Acquaintance

Days passed, advancing further and further into the harsh winter, and dragging about painfully slow. But Gilbert dreaded the approaching spring more than the cold, depressing days spent in confinement, because the coming of spring meant war. He knew that the war would eventually come, it was inevitable. There was an overall vibe of unrest at the court and even servants discussed about it. Since he was no longer part of the Advisory Council, the Prussian had no idea about what preparations were currently under way, but he knew that they were being made. He had no news of Elizaveta or his father, and he did not dare ask. Were they already married? And even together, having their forces joined, could they possibly have coped with what was to come upon them?

As curious as he was about all these things, he didn't find it wise to burden his lover with his concerns, as Valentin seemed preoccupied with other matters entirely. Much to both their displeasure, Administrator Murat was visiting regularly, in his relentless attempts to get under the younger prince's skin. The blonde was obviously making efforts to conceal his discomfort and to be polite on these occasions, as the fat powdered courtier always insisted on holding his arm as they walked or otherwise casually touching him. But even when they were alone and unbothered, the older prince could see that he was miserable and restless, and it was clear that captivity did not agree with him at all.

* * *

"Your Highness, you do remember that I have promised you a while ago that I'd take you to meet someone who might amuse you?"

The expression on Valentin's face mirrored his sincere doubt that Administrator Murat was capable of finding such a person, yet he forced a light smile and nodded slowly. "I only hope it's not that old astronomer who lives in the northern tower and who tells everyone that they will die young… I don't think I'd find that amusing"

The Administrator laughed. "True, that he does. Yet the man is not without some sense – if he tells people that bad things will happen to them and then they don't happen, he can always argue that _Allah_ decided to have mercy on them in the last moment. But if he told them that good things will happen and they eventually didn't, he would lose his head"

"Fair enough… I suppose that's why he has survived this long in the job," the Romanian observed bluntly.

"Yes… Anyway, it's not him that I've thought you should meet, Your Highness," the Turk said, good humored." Someone as young as you should not be bothered with the ramblings of tedious old men. No. I have thought of one of my young protégés, I'm sure you'll like him"

Valentin gave Gilbert a suspicious glance as they were led by the fat courtier up the long, spiraled stairs of the east tower. The ascending took a while, because Murat kept getting tired from the effort and he continuously cursed under his laboured breath. Eventually, as they reached the top of the stairs, he opened a small wooden door and they all ducked under a thick frame, only to find themselves in an unexpectedly large room.

It was almost like a circular hall, impressively spacious, yet most of the floor and the walls were covered and all in all it was pretty crowded with all sorts of surprising items. Countless colorful paintings and coal drawings were scattered everywhere on the stone tiles of the floor – there were portraits, depictions of the all too familiar marine landscape that could be seen outside the windows and plenty of designs of bizarre machinery, the sorts that the Prussian prince had never seen before. But that was far from being the most striking detail – some of those peculiar items were actually _built_ and piled up in there, their sizes varying from very small, toy-like objects, to rather large pieces.

"Who do you think made all these things?" Gilbert whispered discreetly in the Romanian's ear. "I don't think it was one of _them_ …"

"No, you're right. Look, faces," Valentin agreed, picking up a portrait from a random pile and holding it in the light. It showed a young woman with long, wavy chestnut hair and large brown eyes, dressed after the European fashion. A delicate golden cross necklace was adorning her cleavage. "Ottoman artists are not allowed to draw or paint human portraits anyway…" he added.

"Signor Vargas!" Murat called out loud, interrupting their conversation. "I hope we are not disturbing you… Are we?"

There was a rustling noise and a sudden clatter, as if one of the piles of stuff had been disturbed, and a young man appeared from the opposite end of the room. He was rather on the petite side, slightly olive-skinned and had the same light chestnut hair color as the woman from the painting. His large brown eyes travelled quickly from the fat courtier to his companions, eventually resting on the Prussian, and the sight of the silver haired prince seemed to make him somewhat nervous.

"Your Highness, this is Signor Feliciano Vargas, the nephew of the Doge of Venice and my protégé," Murat pointed with a satisfied smirk, and the little Italian took a respectful bow.

"Feliciano, the two guests I brought you are His Highness prince Valentin of Valahia and his servant, Gilbert Beilschmidt" The two princes nodded. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Signor Vargas," the blonde said softly, " _Beyefendi_ Murat has told me so much about you…"

"Vee, is that so? I am pleased," Feliciano replied." And I have heard about you as well, Your Highness. You are the one they call 'the Valah devil', are you not?" he asked with sincere excitement.

"How dare you?! You will apologize to His Highness immediately for your rude comment!" Murat rebuked him, taking a step forward towards the boy, but the Romanian raised his arm to stop him.

"It's alright, _beyefendi_ Murat, I'm sure that Signor Vargas was just curious, after all, this is how everyone around here used to call me," the strawberry blonde said, advancing and placing a hand on the Italian's shoulder, soothing the boy who had cowered in fear the moment the Administrator had raised his voice. "But I hope it is no longer the case, is it?"

"Of course not, Your Highness," the courtier hurried to say, pressing a hand on his chest. "Oh well," he said after a pause, "I'm afraid that I'll have to leave you now, my duties await…" _Excellent, you can fuck off without a worry, no one will miss you_ … Gilbert though rather relieved, as Murat eventually made himself scarce.

"So… how long have you been here, Signor Vargas?" Valentin wanted to know, glancing around curiously.

"For almost…five years now, Your Highness. And please, call me Feliciano," the brunette chirped. "Vee, I suppose you can tell by how many things I've made that I've been in here for a long time…" he added with a subtle hint of sadness.

"Do they ever let you out of this room? In the garden, maybe?" Gilbert asked. But he already knew what the answer was, even if it seemed much too cruel to be true.

"No… This is where I eat, where I sleep, where I wash… But there is a terrace here!" The little Italian opened some large double doors that had previously been concealed by a curtain, revealing a wide stone balcony on the side of the tower. The Romanian rushed outside, past the boy, despite the biting cold that was pouring in, and the silver haired prince hurried to follow as well. They both glanced down, over the railing, at the raging sea lapping at the menacing cliffs below.

"Damn it… same cliffs here…" the blonde grumbled morosely, running a hand through his windswept hair.

"Vali, what-?"

"Forgive me for asking, Your Highness," Feliciano interrupted, "but… are you hostages as well?" Valentin turned around and nodded with a grimace. "Yes we are… and you can call me Valentin, I'm not as 'high' as you think"

A wry smile bloomed on the boy's features as he fidgeted a little. "Well, I suppose… that I could show you something then… You would not betray me, would you?" He then walked to a pile of random stuff which he pushed aside, revealing a seemingly very large object covered by a white cloth. With one forceful move, he pulled off the cloth, and the most peculiar piece of machinery yet came into view. It was made of wood, had the body of a small boat with its hull propped on four wheels and a very strange set of large wings on top of everything.

"Um… what exactly is this… Feliciano?" the strawberry blonde asked, while the Prussian stared rather dumbstruck, with a frown.

The Italian rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. "Vee… I haven't decided on a name for it yet, but I am inclined to call it 'the flying bicycle'. Anyway, constructing it was more important than coming up with a name for it… I am pleased that it does work though!"

"A flying bi-what?"

"A bicycle! See?" the boy explained, his childish face lit up with enthusiasm. "The set of pedals puts the wheels in motion, like this!" He jumped inside and pushed the said pedals with his feet, and the boat-like thing suddenly moved forward with a creaking sound. The two guests took a few steps back, startled.

"Whoa! Your invention is amazing!" the Prussian exclaimed. Feliciano laughed nervously. "Well, actually it's not really my invention – the bicycle thing – but I have adapted it for flight, uh… sort of… and for floating if necessary…"

"Wait… you made this to get out of here, right? To escape?" Valentin asked in a low voice, moving closer and motioning towards the terrace doors, which had remained open. The Italian sighed and nodded, his features suddenly darkening with chagrin. "And how could you build this, without _their_ knowledge? I mean, seeing how they've got you the supplies…"

" _Beyefendi_ Murat brought me all the materials, because he found out that I liked to make things, and he saw my drawings… But he just wanted to keep me busy all this time, since I can't leave this room… He never thought that I could actually make anything useful, or something that might work in any way… So I worked on this for the past two years, after much practice with other things, and it wasn't very hard to keep it away from sight. No one ever bothered to go through my things, and I have nothing of value anyway…"

"Well… so now that it's done, I guess you must be waiting for spring?" Gilbert wondered. "I mean, to have some good weather to… you know…?"

Feliciano seemed unpleasantly surprised by the question, because he bowed his head and crossed his arms, as if in an attempt to protect himself. "Actually… it's been done and ready for more than a year now, but… it's _beyefendi_ Murat… I couldn't get myself to leave him," he confessed rather reluctantly. _What?_ Valentin mouthed silently, turning towards the Prussian with a deep frown. Gilbert shrugged and shook his head, completely baffled.

"All this time I've spent in this prison… I've been all alone, I had no one else but him," the Italian went on, "He was the only one who took care of me, talked to me, made sure I got the materials I wanted. How could I turn my back on him just like this and disappoint him, how could I be so ungrateful? Not to mention it would get him into trouble for sure!"

The Prussian mentally face palmed. "I see… well… it's understandable then…"

* * *

"I can't believe what I've just heard! What the fuck?!" Gilbert nearly shouted, as they walked back to their room, after promising Signor Feliciano Vargas that they would visit him again soon. "What sane person could be attached to that man? And besides, he is afraid of Murat, that much is obvious!"

"You saw him, Gilbert, he's very young," Valentin replied calmly, "If they took him five years ago, he must have been a child then. And he was brought to this place, away from his family and so different from his own home… Of course he clung to someone for protection, and the fat fuck can be very manipulative"

"I'll say… and what do you think of his invention? To be honest, I've never seen anything like it"

The Romanian chewed his lip, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I don't know… it could be a trap. Maybe Murat knows about it – but he hasn't taken it away from him because he doesn't think that the damned thing could ever work – and he is testing me… Maybe he wants to see if I won't get any 'ideas'…"

"Huh…could be," the Prussian agreed. "But he's right about one thing - that shit would never fly. If the boy ever decides to try it, he'll be in for one deadly nose dive, if you ask me"

As soon as they were back in their apartment, the blonde opened the window and pulled Gilbert to it, pointing down. "You see? It's the cliffs that are the problem, really. Even if you had a rope, thick enough and long enough to get you down there safely, and a boat waiting for you, you'd still not be able to make it, because you couldn't get from the bottom of the wall to the boat. The cliffs are too sharp, too jagged and too slippery, so you can't climb them or anything. But the Italian's machine does not need to fly – all it needs is to glide a little on the wind past the cliffs, to the water, and then it will float"

Gilbert crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Right…"

"Yeah, and then – did you notice that there is a shore visible from his balcony? It's an island. Well, I know it's far, but…" Valentin said quickly, with a strange gleam in his ruby red eyes. But the other prince cupped his lover's face with both hands and shook his head before resting his forehead against his.

"Vali… what are we talking about? Even if this crazy… fucking… plan had any chance of working… Murat is watching us all the time, and he has the Italian wrapped around his finger. We couldn't possibly hope to-"

The strawberry blonde's face crumpled at his words and he let out a dry sob. "No, Gilbert, listen… How much time do you think I have left? I can't survive here - no matter what I do or say, I can't love him the way he wants me to and in the end he won't let me live." He pulled away from the Prussian and ran his hands through his hair. "And that fat fuck just frustrates me to no end!" the younger prince suddenly shouted."But he can't thwart us forever, we must get rid of him somehow! There must be a way!" Saying that, the China vase that Gilbert had long had a bad foreboding about was smashed to pieces onto the stone floor.

* * *


	21. The mistake

"Damn it, Vali! You do realize that he'll hear about this… and he'll be angry!" Gilbert pointed. "Before I was appointed your servant, he actually enumerated this as being one of your _barbaric_ bad habits, and one that you were supposed to drop in your new circumstances!"

"What?"

"This! Breaking things!" the Prussian explained, motioning towards the shards of the broken China vase, while the blonde rolled his eyes." _Things_! It's just one vase and I promise not to break anything else, alright? Stop making such a fuss about it. We'll say it was an accident - I smoked _nargile_ , got a bit dizzy and stumbled over it." he offered.

Gilbert frowned and crossed his arms. "You're not supposed to smoke nargile anymore either, remember? Murat asked you especially, and he will most likely be upset to find out that you ignored his 'humble request'"

* * *

But _beyefendi_ Murat had nothing to say to it, when he came to visit, a few days later. His suspiciously pleasant and benevolent mood was ever constant lately, whenever he was around the young prince. In fact, wanting to test his patience – a fact to which the Prussian had strongly objected to **-** Valentin had ordered his _nargile_ to be brought back and had had a generous 'helping' that very day. As such, when the fat courtier floated graciously inside the Romanian's apartment, he was welcomed by a thick, rather heavily scented cloud of dizzying smoke. Gilbert had kept himself away from what he called the 'poisonous fumes' by largely opening the window and breathing in the fresh air until the cold had eventually gotten into his bones.

"Leave us!" Murat ordered, his voice still soft but with a somewhat of a sharp edge, and the Prussian hurriedly stepped out of the bedroom, hiding behind the thick curtains separating it from the large living. It was a good place from where he could still keep an eye on things, since he was less than comfortable to leave Valentin alone with their nemesis.

The Turk sat down carefully on the bed, where the blonde was casually lying with a book, and said something that Gilbert could not hear. He could not read the man's lips as he had his back turned to the door and the voice in which he spoke was too low, but he could notice the Romanian's expression change. The younger prince's features darkened the slightest bit at what he was hearing, but Murat did not seem to heed it, since he only shifted and moved even closer to him, his large palm resting casually onto Valentin's knee as he kept talking. The older prince felt his blood boil at the sight, but he did not dare move.

Eventually Murat stood, and with a ceremonious bow left the bedroom, a satisfied grin barely restrained on his lips. Gilbert tried to make himself as small as possible behind the curtains, as to not be seen, but there was no need – the man was far too preoccupied to notice him.

"So… what did he want?" the silver haired prince wanted to know, keenly observing his lover's expression. "I don't like how he always touches you, as if you were his!" he then blurted out suddenly, and instantly felt stupid. It was absurd to be jealous of Murat…and there was nothing that Valentin could do about it either.

The strawberry blonde shook his head and sighed, with a look of exhaustion that slightly worried his servant. "To get on my good side…you can imagine that he has a clear agenda," he replied with a dry sniff, "but what _I_ want is for him to make a mistake. And I know that he will, sooner or later. He must…"

"Vali, listen… I don't want you to do anything-"

"Anything what?"

"Anything dangerous, alright?" the Prussian pleaded. "The way you say these things – it smells like a conspiracy and I don't think…I don't think any good can come out of it"

The Romanian grimaced, leaning back onto the pillows. "Look, he said that tonight he has something he wants to talk about – without the risk of anyone eavesdropping – and so he wants all my servants to spend the night in the servants' wing. Now, I had to say 'yes', obviously…"

Gilbert frowned. " _What?_ I don't like this at all! You alone with him? I can't possibly imagine what he wants to discuss that's so secret!"

"It's probably something that must not reach the Sultan's ears, and he does not know which one of my servants is actually His Greatness' spy. As far as he's concerned, it could be anyone, including you. I suppose he's worried that the Sultan has not come to visit me in quite a while and he thinks that I should be the one to make a step towards our reconciliation this time. He can't wait, he wants to see things progress in the desired direction, for me _and_ for him, and so far nothing has happened"

"Maybe…" Gilbert pondered out loud. "But still, it's weird"

"I know, but then again there's something I want to ask you to do, and this is the right opportunity," the blonde suddenly said, sitting upright. "If you must go to the servants' wing anyway, you could talk to Sümbül Aga without anyone thinking that you went on purpose. Just chat with the man and ask him – as casually as it gets – what has happened to Onur Pasha. He must know"

"Onur Pasha? What do you mean, did anything happen to him?" The Prussian was confused, as he'd completely forgotten about the man who'd wielded the poisoned weapon leading to the whole disgrace. But now that he thought of it, he didn't think that the general had anything to do with Murat's scheme whatsoever.

"I know for sure that he was accused of poisoning you. I want to know if he's still alive, and I can't touch such a delicate subject with _beyefendi_ Murat without arousing his suspicion." Valentin said. Gilbert shrugged his shoulders, rather unconvinced. He did not think that investigating that particular aspect could help them in any way, but on the other hand he could understand why the younger prince needed to cling himself even to the faintest of hopes. If indeed Valentin had a plan, it must have been pretty crazy to begin with – so as to not call it down straight impossible – but it was clear to him now that as long as he lived the 'Valah devil' would not willingly bow to fate.

"Very well, _my prince_. I shall do as you wish" Saying that, the Prussian leaned in and pressed his lips briefly against his lover's.

* * *

" _Allah, Allah_! _Beyefendi_ Murat was very agitated today!" Sümbül Aga said, stuffing his face with _revani_ ( _A/N – a Turkish sweet cake_ ), even if Gilbert had not asked him anything. Nevertheless, the information aroused the silver haired prince's interest.

"Really? And why is that?" he asked casually, trying to seem only mildly interested, as he too popped one of the small pieces of cake into his mouth and grimaced slightly. The cake was very sweet, too sweet for his taste, but Valentin liked them. Oh yes, his little blonde definitely had a sweet tooth. A _sharp_ sweet tooth, to be more precise. He couldn't but smile at that thought.

But Sümbül Aga didn't notice that the Prussian was currently lost in thought and went on. "I believe it has something to do with his new concubine – Ayşe. _Maşallah_ , she's very beautiful! All day, ever since he returned from his duties, _efendi_ has gone through all his jewelry chests in search of a proper gift. You see, he would have ordered something special to our very talented court jeweler, but he is busy… And so _efendi_ searched and searched, but nothing was good enough… Only when it was nearly the time to go and see her did he finally settle for a large, absolutely gorgeous sapphire ring!"

"Sapphire ring…" Gilbert repeated absentminded." Wait, what? He's gone to see her tonight?" he suddenly snapped to attention. _Oh well, he needed a cover if he doesn't want anyone to know what he's up to_ … he realized eventually, but the Administrator's assistant was already eyeing him with a bit of suspicion.

"Why do you ask, _beyefendi_ Beilschmidt?" he inquired, ever curious. "Do you know anything about it that might have escaped me?"

The prince smiled, troubled, and took another piece of cake. "Oh no, how could I possibly, _beyefendi_ Sümbül? Forgive me, truth be told I wasn't paying much attention… And under no circumstances do I think that anything could escape you," he added with a light smile. "In fact, I've been having a curiosity for quite a while and I'm sure that you're the man who could enlighten me, seeing how you know everything that goes on around here. I was wondering if you could tell me what became of Onur Pasha – my master mentioned that he was accused of poisoning me? I still cannot fathom why he has done such a thing…"

Gilbert was rather worried, but so far playing dumb seemed to be working. Still, cautious as he usually was, Sümbül Aga was pondering for a proper answer, and the Prussian knew better than to rush him.

"Indeed," the Turk spoke at last, "Onur Pasha was accused of trying to poison you and _efendi_ himself has presented the evidence before the Divan…" he revealed, a bit reluctant. "And so the Pasha was exiled…"

"Just like that?" the prince asked, genuinely surprised. "But, did he not try to defend himself? And was there no explanation required of him?"

"Well, of course, Onur Pasha claimed he was innocent, but apparently all proof indicated that he was the culprit, not to mention that his numerous gambling debts spoke against him… The Divan could not clearly establish his guilt, but they unanimously reached the conclusion that he wasn't an honorable man… Exile was a bit of a compromise solution, but it was the best they could come up with under the circumstances"

"I see…"

Gilbert did not find it wise to inquire any further, or to ask exactly what evidence had Murat brought before the Divan to cast the blame on Onur Pasha, when it was pretty obvious - at least for him – that the man had hardly anything to do with it. It was all the more frightening to realize the kind of manipulative power and influence that the fat courtier held at the Court, and it made him even more concerned with whatever plan Valentin had and just how bad it might all end.

They spent the rest of the evening talking about other insignificant things – and there were plenty, because Sümbül Aga knew every single good gossip in the _sarayi_ ( _A/N - palace,Turkish_ ), and to him all gossip was good. But then Gilbert found himself lying in the dark, in the solitude of a small, cold bed in a remote room inside the servants' wing, and dark thoughts gripped him once more. He did not sleep all night.

* * *

As soon as the morning came, the silver haired prince abandoned his place of torment and rushed back to the Romanian's apartment. He cast a quick glance around and noticed that none of the other servants had returned yet. The fire had almost died out in the younger prince's bedroom, leaving it prey to the cold, and he found Valentin curled up as tightly as he could under a bundle of blankets. Shaking his head, he crouched in front of the fireplace and threw a few bits of parchment onto the still glowing embers and waited for fresh flames to sparkle back to life before adding some more firewood. Only then he turned to watch his lover sleep.

The Prussian was quite preoccupied about what Murat had wanted to talk to the blonde, and was eager to ask him, but Valentin did not wake up all day. Much to his dismay, even if there seemed to be nothing wrong with him, the Romanian was sunken into a very deep sleep. Eventually, in the evening, as it was time for him to go to practice, Gilbert decided that he would sent for the doctor if the other boy still wasn't up by the time he returned.

The time passed torturously slow and he was way too worried to focus, so in the end the Prussian skipped almost half of his practice time. Juts as he was heading back, he very nearly bumped into a servant that was rushing out of the apartment.

" _Ne var_?" he asked, all color draining from his face as he grabbed the man's sleeve.

" _Şehzade kendini iyi hissetmiyor, ben doktor getireyim,efendi_ …" Not waiting to hear anything else, Gilbert barged in and found Valentin sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands.

"Vali? What's wrong, are you sick?" he asked kneeling and grabbing the blonde's hands in his own. "I'm very dizzy and I feel a bit like vomiting too… and I'm very tired… otherwise I think I am well…" the Romanian replied in a faint voice, avoiding his lover's gaze.

"But what happened?" the Prussian demanded. "What did Murat want from you last night?" he then asked in a lower voice. His rough features twisted into a scowl, seeing how the other boy hesitated to answer. Then his fingers suddenly felt something unfamiliar and he glanced down, discovering the large sapphire ring now adorning Valentin's finger.

_I believe it has something to do with his new concubine – Ayşe. Only when it was nearly the time to go and see her did he finally settle for a large, absolutely gorgeous sapphire ring..._

"Vali, what is this?" he almost shouted, gripped by a sudden sinister suspicion.

* * *

**Dictionary:**

**Ne var? – What is it?, Turkish**

**Şehzade kendini iyi hissetmiyor,** **ben doktor getireyim – The prince does not feel well, I'll get the doctor, Turkish**

* * *


	22. Price paid

"What is this? Why did he give _this_ to you?" Gilbert pressed. "What did he want, huh?" His voice already had a bitter, sharp edge, as he felt his blood beginning to boil.

Valentin shook his head, avoiding the Prussian's gaze. "He brought this jasmine tea when he came… um… it was supposed to numb me or something, I think…so I just drank it and…"

"And?"

"And I don't know. I don't remember anything…" The Romanian pulled his feet up on the bed and hugged his knees rather defensively, as the older prince suddenly tore himself away from him, rising abruptly and turning his back on him. "It's good then, if you don't _remember anything_!" he hissed sarcastically. Anger rose inside his chest, burning everything in its way, clouding his judgment, and he wanted nothing but to tear someone to shreds in that very moment. He walked away to the window, eager to put some distance between them before he would end up unleashing his demons on his lover. _His_ lover!

"Do you really think I wanted to do this? He knows, alright? He _knows_!" the strawberry blonde shouted suddenly, after a few moments of suffocating silence. Gilbert froze. He did not need ask what exactly it was that Murat knew, it was plain and clear. The cold ocean of fear instantly washed away all his hurt and all his anger, and his hands fell helpless to his sides, fingers hanging limply from now unclenched fists. " _What_?"

Behind him, Valentin remained silent.

"Fucking hell!" the older prince murmured, turning to face his master. "But how did he-?" He was interrupted by the doctor's arrival. He took a small bow and stepped out of the bedroom, only to drop on a sofa in the living, almost trembling.

 _Oh my God!_ The Prussian pressed his fingers against his forehead as hard as he could, and squeezed his eyes shut. _We're fucked, if he knows we're fucked! Now he really has Valentin in his claws! And how could I take it out on him, when he was the one to suffer it all? What kind of imbecile am I? What kind of love did I confess to him, when I treated him like this? Maybe I should just… God I don't know! I don't know!_

Driven by a sudden impulse, the silver haired male jumped up from the sofa and darted out of the apartment, heading determinedly back to the Hall of Arms. There he trained relentlessly for the next few hours, working furiously to release all the poison he'd gathered up inside. He was no longer seeing the wood and straw dummy in front of him, but a thousand images of Murat possessing his lover flooded his mind, tormenting him incessantly. The thing he had refused to even think of before, that he'd stuffed down for a while now as if it'd been a bad dream, came back to hit him with full force, like a whiplash over his bare heart. Murat's fat, powdered fingers touching _his_ Valentin! Those hungry lips and that flesh, all that disgusting amount of flesh crushing, soiling his brave, proud lover and making him cringe in pain and humiliation! The sword in his hand slammed against the jagged wood again and again, without mercy, as tears streamed down freely on his cheeks, before a particular heavier blow cleaved the dummy to pieces. Only then did the blade slip from the Prussian's weary hand, and the man himself dropped to his knees, defeated and shaken by violent sobs.

* * *

It was almost midnight when he made his way back to the Romanian's apartment. His steps were stumbled and his heart aching, and he knew that not much was needed to break his resolve. Yet he did not turn back, he did not run away from what he'd made up his mind to do. No, the prince was determined to say what needed to be said before his lover and then do what he needed to do. What it was necessary to end everything.

The other servants had retreated to their small quarters adjacent to the living room, closing the door, and now the place was sunken in darkness. Gilbert saw the pale glowing of the fire in the bedroom, but no other light was in there either.

He stood upright, holding his chin up as he spoke, even if his gaze was fixed to the cold stone floor at his feet. "I'm sorry… I've just behaved appallingly, and I don't expect you to forgive me. I have so boldly professed my love for you, when I brought you nothing but pain and suffering. You've done everything for me, yet I have repaid it poorly so far… But not anymore! I will put an end to all your torment and to all your problems - by putting an end to my miserable life!"

The blonde remained motionless at first, still hugging his knees and staring blankly at the fire, then slowly pushed himself down the mattress and off the bed, hauling himself to his feet without a word. He then walked right to where the taller man stood, humble and expectant, and without a warning backhanded him across the face with all his strength.

"If you think that you can just go to hell and leave me alone in this shit, you couldn't be more wrong!" Valentin shouted. "When you first set foot in this room you said that I am your prince now, and _I will_ hold you to your fucking word! Do you understand?"

Gilbert dropped to his knees, still not daring to look up, his right cheek burning from the blow and his muscles painfully tensed in his whole body. And he did not relax a single bit until unexpectedly gentle fingers wrought themselves into his hair, caressing. "Forgive me, Vali! Please forgive me!" he sobbed, arms flying up to embrace the blonde's waist tightly.

"You damned idiot! How could you think I _wanted_ to sleep with Murat?" the Romanian scolded, but his voice had already faded back to his usual softness. The Prussian didn't answer, only burying his face deeper into the other boy's shirt, soaking it with his tears. "What if…" he sniffed eventually, "What if he tells the Sultan? He's going to… to…"

"Not if he takes a nose dive well before that, he won't," Valentin replied, strangely calm."And that he will"

"But how?" Gilbert asked, finally looking up. "Onur Pasha was exiled, if you had any hope with him, you can forget about it! Murat has a great influence with the Divan, if he got him sentenced with basically no proof at all! We cannot mess with this man, he's much too powerful, we simply can't!" he whined.

But the blonde shook his head, a faint smile blooming on his lips. "Forget about that, there's no need of Onur Pasha anymore, not after last night. Did I not tell you that eventually he will grow reckless? And now he's made a mistake, just like I knew he would…" he said, holding up his left hand and exposing the sapphire ring.

"I-I don't-"

"Gilbert, when you said that I am your prince, were you _really_ in earnest?" Valentin asked again, and the Prussian knew that this time he meant every word. He nodded, taking the younger prince's hand in his own and bringing it to his lips. "Yes!"

"Good. Because there's something I need you to do for me…"

* * *

The Prussian prince was convinced it was a bad idea, and that it could only result in something terrible. In fact, he down straight dreaded it, but that did not deter him from his purpose. Gilbert was a man taught in the ways of loyalty and obedience, and if he'd obeyed the nasty piece of work that was – or wasn't – his father all his life, he would now just as well obey the nasty piece of work that was his new prince and lover.

Of course he'd been made to wait for quite a while, since His Greatness did not give private audiences to just anyone, but his stepbrother's name had eventually opened the door to his study. The two guards swung the double doors open and Gilbert walked in hurriedly, with his head bowed deeply and feeling something very close to terror. He honestly feared that when he should speak, words would just clog up in his throat and he wouldn't be able to utter a single sound. Nevertheless, he forced his feet forward, as he advanced and kneeled at Sadiq's feet, kissing the hem of his robes.

"Well? You wanted to tell me something about Prince Valentin. What is it?" the Sultan eventually asked in a neutral tone.

The Prussian took a deep breath, eyeing the intricate pattern of the carpet beneath their feet. "Your Greatness, as you may know, I was given the task to protect His Highness… and I have tried to do so until now to the best of my powers, but…"

"But what?" Sadiq pressed abruptly, in a manner that was everything but encouraging.

"But it turned out that despite my efforts and my best intentions, I've failed to do so! And in my worthlessness I can only beg for Your Greatness' help!"

The Sultan suddenly seemed to lose his patience, a thing which did not happen very often. "What is that supposed to mean?" he roared. "Speak clearly! What happened to His Highness?"

Gilbert cleared his throat. _This is it. Now I could lose my head… "_ Your Greatness, two nights ago… when I returned from practice… I was told by the guards that all the prince's servants had been sent to spend the night away to the servants' wing instead of their usual room. I thought it was weird, since it had never happened before, so I went in, claiming I had something to pick up and…well…" he swallowed a lump in his throat, "there was a man in the prince's bedroom and he…um…"

"What man?"

"I don't know, I did not recognise his voice and it was dark… but I assumed that if the guards let him through, he must have been someone from the court… Anyway, I thought it was none of my business, so I just slipped out and went to the servants' wing. But yesterday the prince was feeling sick and we had to send for the doctor. The doctor said that His Highness had been given a much too powerful sedative, and that had worked almost like a poison… And that wasn't all – the prince was very scared for some reason and he would not say why. He was shaking and cried himself to sleep, and I could not get anything out of him. All I know is that a large sapphire ring has appeared on his finger, and I'm quite sure that he did not have it before… Your Greatness, my only wish is to protect His Highness, but how could I when I am no more than a miserable servant?"

" _Beyefendi_ Beilschmidt, what you are telling me is quite unprecedented…" Sadiq said after pondering for a few moments. "Who would dare to hurt my stepbrother?"

"I-I don't know!" the prince stuttered. "No one would tell me anything!"

"I see. You have done well to tell me then" Thus concluding, the Sultan waved his hand in dismissal, and Gilbert made himself scarce as quickly as he could.

* * *

That night he was again kept away from his prince's apartment, and that only added to his ill forebodings. Not knowing what was going on positively drove him up the wall. And the fact that Sümbül Aga had come to take him there – that could only mean even worse. Did Murat know already that he was the man accused by his master? Probably. But how to find out? The Administrator's assistant was unusually silent, only dropping in a few conventional phrases every now and then, and he seemed troubled as well. Gilbert was left once more to spend the night in the small room, prey to his darkest thoughts.

* * *

"Come, _beyefendi_ Beilschmidt, it's time," Sümbül Aga informed him in a mysterious voice, making the Prussian jump from his seat in surprise, even if he'd just been sitting there for many hours without business, almost without moving. He tried to read the man's features for any clue about what was going on, but to no avail.

"Time for what?"

"I think you will want to see this…"

Following the gracious Turk that seemed to simply float and slide onto the marble tiles of the corridors, Gilbert found himself led by the courtier to the door of a small room adjacent to the Divan Hall. Soundlessly they slipped inside, unheeded by those already in the room, and found a place somewhere in the back, partially concealed by a light silk curtain. Golden light poured into the room through the painted glass of the tall, narrow windows, spilling onto the rich green and brown carpets, but the Sultan sat in shadow, like a snake patiently awaiting its helpless, unsuspecting prey. Next to him sat Valentin, with a worn look upon his features and staring at his hands folded in his lap. Gilbert also spotted Berker Pasha standing near the throne, with his back held straight despite his age, his thick white eyebrows twisted into a scowl.

Suddenly, the doors swung open and two Janissaries walked in, holding Administrator Murat between them tightly by the arms. At Berker Pasha's sign, they pushed him unceremoniously down to the ground.

"Murat _beyefendi_ ," Berker Pasha began, without any prior introduction, "you have been accused of attempting to exercise inappropriate influence upon His Highness, prince Valentin. What do you have to say for yourself?"

The fat powdered courtier struggled to stand up, with some difficulty, and seemed genuinely surprised by the accusation. "Your Greatness, Berker Pasha," he spoke humbly, "I have no knowledge of what I am accused of _exactly_ …"

"You are being accused of having used the prince's somewhat uncertain position here at the Court in an attempt to force him to intervene in your favor to His Greatness, the Sultan. You are accused of attempted intimidation, and of inappropriate behavior towards His Highness," Berker Pasha explained coldly. Murat wanted to say something, but the older courtier went on before he could do so, this time with a sharper edge. "Murat _beyefendi_ , you have visited the prince often without asking his prior permission - undoubtedly taking advantage of the fact that he is yet unfamiliar with our etiquette – thus imposing your presence on him. Also, you have been seen by several servants _touching_ him, even in public, and holding his arm. How dared you?"

The accused pressed his hands upon his chest with a dramatic gesture, with an innocent expression. "Your Greatness, it's all been some terrible misunderstanding! I do not deny that I may have made mistakes, but to no ill purpose! I had nothing but good intentions!" he pleaded.

Snakelike eyes blinked behind the silk mask before Sadiq leaned forward in his seat, causing Murat to take a step back, instinctively. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions, Murat _bey_ ," he drawled. "Do you take me for a fool? Do you honestly believe I don't know that three nights ago you have forced yourself upon my brother?"

"Your Greatness, it's a lie! He-" the courtier cried, but the Sultan cut him off. "I have my sources, but he was also examined by the doctor, for good measure"

Murat's gaze shot up towards the Romanian, and it was filled with poison. "Your Greatness, you will forgive me for saying this, but His Highness has lied to you. He is only seeking revenge for what happened during his punishment. And it wasn't me he slept with that night, but his Prussian servant. They are lovers!"

 _Oh shit! OH SHIT!_ Gilbert thought, his knees going weak, but his lover seemed utterly unimpressed.

"Murat _bey_ , more than a few men partook in my brother's punishment, and he knows them all. Yet he has not accused anyone else but you. Odd, isn't it?" Sadiq said, standing up slowly." As for him and the Prussian being lovers, it seems you have entertained this idea for quite a while, haven't you? That's why you have poisoned the man and cast the blame on Onur Pasha, for whose conviction you have deceived the Divan. The truth is that you always wanted my brother, and because you had him once, during his punishment, you thought you could have him again, whenever you liked, didn't you?"

"Your Greatness, please! It's lies, it's all lies! He and his lover have planned everything!" Murat lamented.

Sadiq sighed and shook his head. "Murat _bey_ , the doctor testified that the prince was almost poisoned with an overdose of sedative. Did his lover do that? And did his lover give him this?" he added, holding up the gift. "This ring is yours, you were supposedly going to give it to your concubine, Ayşe. Is that what you think my brother is, _your concubine_?"

Murat paled at the Sultan's last words, which came out like a menacing hiss. He opened his mouth, but could not utter a single sound. "Actually, my brother wasn't the one to accuse you, Murat _bey_ , no – he kept his mouth shut just as you 'kindly advised' him to do. It was one of your trusted servants who told me everything, and gave me all the proof. The facts are quite clear"

"Take him away!" Berker Pasha ordered the Janissaries, and Administrator Murat, who had dropped to his knees, was forcefully hauled to his feet and dragged out of the room, despite his protests. " He can say his last prayer out in the yard!"

* * *


	23. A certain matter

"I really hope this isn't some spectacular waste of time…" Gilbert expressed out loud, as they were strolling as casually as possible down the corridor, as to not draw any unwanted attention upon themselves.

His prince's frown deepened somewhat, and he sighed. Administrator Murat's execution had brought Valentin little relief, and more worry. _'It was too easy, the way they sentenced him, mainly based on what his assistant had said. I mean really – maybe the respective servant simply hated him. And the way Onur Pasha was sentenced by the Divan, with no proof at all, or fabricated ones… It just proves how 'justice' works around here, and how a man's life is worth so little, not really worth the trouble to go a long distance to find out the truth, or to establish true guilt… It frightens me, to be honest. What if we'll have the same fate, at the hands of my fickle stepbrother? It only strengthens my resolve that we must somehow leave this place…_

"Vali, even assuming that his ridiculous machine could get us out of here – which is a ridiculous idea to begin with - how do you know that now he will see things any different than he did the last time? Because basically, he doesn't want to leave. Or he doesn't have the guts to. Or both. Either way, the effect is the same!"

"His precious _beyefendi_ Murat is dead," the Romanian pointed dryly. "That should somehow change things…"

Gilbert was personally skeptical about that bit of assumption. "Maybe, but depends in what way. He probably must know by now that his protector was killed because of you… So why would he help us then?"

"I am sure that I can come up with some absolving explanation if it comes to that…" Valentin replied thoughtful. "Besides, he may have trusted Murat and relied upon him, but it was obvious to me that he also feared the man, so that his whatever chagrin must be doubled by _some_ relief." He glanced up at his lover, reading his doubts. The younger prince sighed and slowed his pace even more. "Are you disappointed in me, Gilbert? Now that I've proven to be this evil, scheming and manipulative person? Are you entertaining thoughts that maybe I was like that all along and you have been deceived in your expectations of me?"

The Prussian smirked lightly at first, but then his grin grew wider and wider. "Vali, you know that I am far from being a saint myself, and from the first time I laid eyes on you I knew you were up to no good. Besides, I think that a prince must have such qualities as you have enumerated, at least as far as politics are concerned. But… why are you asking this?"

"What?"

Gilbert's smile faded. "It's like you're blaming yourself for something. Like you're blaming yourself for what's happened to Murat. And I can't understand why you would do such a thing!"

"I'm not blaming myself, Gilbert, and I don't regret it either. It's just… it hasn't brought me as much relief as I'd thought. Believe it or not, I've never plotted to kill someone before, it's… I don't know. I'd much rather face my enemy in a fair fight, sword in hand. _This_ , stabbing people in the back, that's what women and weaklings do! And I simply can't relish in someone's death, no matter how much deserved..."

* * *

The door at the top of the long, narrow staircase was open, and Gilbert briefly wondered how come the Italian was not guarded at all. _Unless they consider him to be so pathetic and complacent that they can't even imagine him trying to escape…_ "No guards around here, huh?" he pointed regardless.

"I wouldn't worry about that – there's nowhere he can go anyway, is it? Except for flying, but no one's thinking of that," Valentin replied thoughtfully, "Not to mention that there probably _is_ some logic behind this. If I've learned something about this place and these people in all this time that I've had to deal with them is that nothing is left _un-thought_ of"

"Huh… shit then," the Prussian murmured, more to himself, before clearing his throat out loud. "Hello? Signor Vargas?" he called, scrutinizing the overwhelming mess that was in the room. There was no answer, and he turned worriedly towards his master. "Maybe he's not here anymore? Do you think they've taken him away?"

"He's here alright," his prince said, pointing towards a figure curled up under a ragged blanket in a far corner of the chamber. They drew closer to the simple hay mattress that was placed directly onto the cold stone floor, and the strawberry blonde kneeled in front of it. "Signor Vargas? Forgive the intrusion…" The figure under the blanket finally stirred. "I hope we are not disturbing you…?"

"Vee, is that you, Your Highness?" the little Italian eventually poked his head out from under the dark cloth, blinking a bit sleepily. "I didn't know who it was…"

"We just wanted to see how you were, Signor Vargas. Is everything alright?" the Romanian asked, quite concerned, briefly turning to face Gilbert with a light scowl." Are you ill maybe?"

Feliciano took a deep breath, slowly extracting himself from under the piled blanket and sitting up. "No, Your Highness, I am not ill, I'm just… just alone, I guess. All alone…" he confessed with a wry smile. He looked absolutely pitiful the way he just sat there, hunched and burdened, all childish joy gone from his pale face. "You must have heard, Your Highness, " he went on, "that _beyefendi_ Murat was executed a few days ago for treason and corruption…"

"Indeed, we have…" Valentin threw another hurried glance in the direction of his servant, but the older prince simply shrugged. It did not seem to him that there was any hidden meaning in the Italian's words. "I suppose that must have upset you…?"

The brown haired boy seemed to ponder a bit, as if the question had really taken him by surprise. "Upset? A bit, maybe… But I can't say it has surprised me. I mean… _beyefendi_ Murat took care of me and all, yet he must have had his flaws, I suppose… Sümbül Aga did not care to give me too many details as to why the Administrator was sentenced…"

"Well, from what we understood, he was a man who knew what he wanted and all his actions were driven by clear purpose… But perhaps it was the very pursuit of these purposes that eventually got him into trouble. Because apparently there is a fine line between the pursuit of your own interests and being considered that you have crossed those of the Sultan," the Romanian said, as a matter-of-fact.

"I guess…" the Italian seemed to shudder a bit and drew his knees up to his chest, as if to protect himself. "So I can't but wonder what _beyefendi_ Murat's interest was with me?" he asked suddenly, his gaze shooting up to the other two hostages. "Other than… other than his mere amusement perhaps…" he wondered with a hint of bitterness.

"Signor Vargas, trouble yourself no more with these matters," Valentin said gently, "the man is dead, and so whatever it was that he wanted from you, he wants it no longer… Also, you should know that both I and prince Beilschmidt understand your concerns, now that the one you must have somehow regarded as your protector is dead, in fact… we happen to have similar concerns ourselves…"

"Indeed," Gilbert confirmed with a slow nod."Signor Vargas, we have heard that _beyefendi_ Murat's trial was carried out rather superficially, and the sentence given without much evidence from the part of his accusers. Of course, this has led both my master and me to conclude that justice here is quite shallow and apparently it all depends on the mere whims of His Greatness the Sultan… That's why I'm afraid that I must confess… that we don't really feel safe here anymore. Not that we were feeling much safe to begin with, given our condition as hostages…"

"Yes," the strawberry blonde added, "and in fact, Signor Vargas, we have come here today to discuss a matter that I think we should all do good to consider, seeing the precariousness of our current situation"

The little Italian had seemed to grow more and more frightened as Gilbert spoke, and now his large brown eyes widened even further. "W-what matter?" he stuttered, nearly choking.

"Well, the matter of _escaping_ , actually," the younger prince replied calmly, in a lower voice.

"Escaping Topkapi?"

"Topkapi, Istanbul… escaping _period_. Getting out of the Ottomans' grasp is basically the idea," the Prussian developed, while Feliciano's gaze trailed rapidly from one prince to another, as if half expecting it to be some bad, cruel joke.

"Vee, but surely… how did you… h-how could we even think of doing this? There are guards everywhere, that much even I know! And where could we possibly go from here?" The Prussian rolled his eyes and gave an 'I told you he would crap out' glance towards his prince. "Unless you think… that island…is not very far?"

"No, not far, it's _very_ far," Valentin said with a bit of a snort, pressing his fingers together. "Look, Signor Vargas, I will be entirely honest with you now, alright? No matter how we look at it, this attempt – if we decide to proceed with it – will be very dangerous," he said shaking his head, "we might get severely injured, or we might not survive it at all, seeing how we have thought of using that _previously untested_ device of yours… But prince Beilschmidt and I are both willing to give it a try, no matter the costs because, well, we have agreed that we'd better be able to decide our own fate than simply sit here and wait for the sword to fall down upon our neck"

To this the little Italian did not reply anything, instead he simply threw himself into the blonde's arms, sobbing desperately. Predictably, Valentin scowled, especially at the Prussian's slightly amused expression, but had no other choice than to put his arms around the crying boy, comfortingly. "Y-you are right! Vee, do you… do you really think that we could have a chance, Your Highness?" Feliciano eventually uttered, sniffing and wiping a hand over his tearstained cheeks.

"We might…" the Romanian sighed, tiredly, "we might have a chance, yes…"

"Then we do it, yes?" Feliciano asked, wiping his nose, a bright hopeful smile suddenly illuminating his childish features.

"Yes"

 _Now we are fucked! Totally, utterly fucked!_ Gilbert thought, mentally facepalming. From the hands of one insane, wicked prince to another's, such was his fate…

* * *


	24. Storm

Gilbert had always hated mornings – at least that had been a clear constant throughout his entire troubled existence – and that particular morning was one he was even less willing to face than usual. He could feel the crude winter light against his closed eyelids and knew it was time to wake up, therefore a nasty and mumbled swear promptly left his lips, stirring a soft chuckle. His back was sunken deeper into his small cramped sofa as a warm body pressed on top of his, followed by a stir of cold air.

"Nothing worse than a gloomy morning like this one, huh?" a soft voice asked. "I've always hated mornings myself, especially when there's haste to drag oneself out of bed," Valentin added, while the Prussian grumbled some more, shifting so he could pull the blanket over their bodies and protect them both from the unpleasant coolness. "Anyway, you should wake up now, there's someone here to see you and they look rather impatient…"

"Mmmmhh, damn it Vali… Who is it…?" the silver haired prince asked, half drifting back to sleep.

"Can't you guess? It's Gilbert!" the blonde answered with a soft chuckle, fingers ghosting a caress over the slightly frowned brow on the man trapped beneath him. "What?"

"Gil-bert… No, Gil-bird… _Gilbird_?" That's his name, right?"

"Huh?" Gilbert blinked sleepily at last, greeted by a happy chirp resounding somewhere nearby. "GILBIRD!" he shouted suddenly upon recognition, struggling to jump up to his feet and hindered by his master. The little golden canary was perched up inside a spacious cage, placed on the inner window sill. Up at last, he quickly walked to the cage and took out his favorite pet, holding it lovingly between his cradled palms and gently pressing his nose and cheek into the soft feathers. "My little Gilbird, I missed you so much! So much!" he cooed. "But how did you get here?"

"Sümbül _Aga_ brought him earlier, he thought you should have him back," the strawberry blonde explained. "Probably seeing how he's appropriated everything else belonging to his master… In the end it was a good thing though that he proved to be such an ambitious man himself…"

"I'll say…" the Prussian agreed, only half listening and still focused on his beloved pet. "But… wait!" He turned abruptly, a sudden panic written all over his features. "What am I going to do with him?"

"With who?"

"Gilbird! How am I to leave him here, now that I've just found him again? Who will take care of him after we're gone?" the older prince wondered morosely. "And it would… break my heart to part with him for good, Vali… He's all I had for so long, in all the endless days of my life when I was all alone…" he blurted out, voice shaking with unshed tears.

The blonde prince shuffled closer and nuzzled his nose into the back of Gilbert's shoulder affectionately. "Then don't," he replied softly, "take him with us." He reached out beneath his lover's arm and the tiny bird jumped from Gilbert's palms onto his outstretched finger, chirping carelessly.

" _WHAT?_ What are you saying? But he's so little! He's not going to make it!"

"Well, _we_ might not make either…"

* * *

"Whoa…" Gilbert leaned over the balcony railing and glanced down at the furious waves smashing relentlessly against the sharp cliffs below. It was a disconcerting sight to say the least. He then peaked over his shoulder, just as the little Italian pulled the cloth away, revealing his terrible flying machine. _Flying bi-cycle… we're going to die in this crap…_ he couldn't help but ponder gloomily, watching his master who looked quite unsettled himself. Trusting and obeying a prince's decisions – that was never easy, it wasn't a task for the faint of heart, but at least the Prussian took pride in not being the faint of heart kind of man.

"The wind blows fast, I think there will be a storm tonight, Your Highness," he pointed as the young Valah walked up to join him, sniffing a bit into the air. "Yes, I can feel it too, it does smell like a storm drawing closer…" Valentin agreed with a muffled groan, looking up at the night sky upon which no moon and no stars were visible beyond the menacing clouds.

"It looks like we couldn't have picked a worse time to make our attempt at _flying_ away from here…" the Prussian then added, while the blonde shook his head with a scowl. "You know we can't go for random walks around the palace too many times without drawing unwanted attention and don't think that _they_ 're not aware that we've been visiting Signor Vargas rather often lately. We have to go tonight!"

"Yes I know but-"

"I know it looks bad, Herr Beilschmidt, but in fact the strong wind is just right for the wings to hold us in the air!" Feliciano interrupted, clapping his hands excitedly. Gilbert threw a look at the outspread pieces of timber and cloth stretching from the roof of the _thing_ and couldn't repress an inward shudder running down his spine. "Don't you think so too, Your Highness?"

Valentin cleared his throat and forced a faint smile to mask his obvious doubt that it was indeed so. "Huh… I suppose you're right, Signor Vargas. But… um… maybe some paddles wouldn't hurt either…? You know, just in case we-"

"Don't you worry, I thought of that too!" the Italian replied hurriedly before the other boy could even finish his idea, "Here they are!" He dug into one of the messy piles of miscellaneous stuff and dragged out two of the mentioned items, although awkwardly improvised as they were and visibly mismatched. His enthusiasm dwindled to some extent as he briefly inspected them, turning them on each side. "I guess these will have to do… Shall we proceed then?"

"Right! We can't afford to waste anymore time," the Romanian agreed, "Guards could walk in on us in any moment and then we'd be screwed!"

 _As if we weren't utterly screwed anyway…_ Gilbert stood motionless in the middle of the large room, observing the Italian's last hasty preparations with growing numbness. Even Gilbird had fallen silent, nested safely on the top of his head. But if there was something that truly worried him, it was his own calm at facing the not-so-positive perspective – there was something foreboding about it.

"Gilbert? I think we'll be needing some _space_ , with that," the strawberry blonde pointed at the wooden railing encircling the balcony from one end to the other. "We'd better not risk damaging the machine by simply pushing through it and we'll lose the momentum as well, so better if we can get it out of the way beforehand"

The Prussian was suddenly snapped out of his trance like state by his prince's order and moved to the purpose, kicking his booted heel as hard as he could into one of the small supporting pillars. The old, darkened wood cracked a bit, but held up all the same. "Fucking hell!" he swore bitterly against the biting cold wind, drawing his sword and swinging it with full force a few times. At last splinters flew into the air and he kicked off the rest with his foot. In the end it took quite an effort and bringing down two of the supporting pillars on opposite ends, as well as cutting through the main beam on each side, until a rather large middle section of the railing was bent outwards, creating plenty of space for passage.

A sudden creaking sound startled him, and he turned away from the frightening sight unfolding at his feet. Feliciano had finally set the _bicycle_ in motion, working the pedals as hard as he could – which wasn't that much really – and stirred it towards the exit, while the younger prince pushed it from behind. "I suppose it wouldn't have hurt to consider the _direction_ of the wind as well…" the Italian pondered in a low voice, observing the cloth of the peculiar wings suddenly inflated by the wild gales.

"It's too late for that, we must go _now_!" Valentin urged, giving one last push and jumping behind him in the small boat with ease. _Alright, here goes nothing… Oh my God, have mercy!_ the older prince prayed silently as he pulled Gilbird off from his hair and shoved him rather unceremoniously inside his coat. He then flung himself over the rim of the infernal device as well, in one fluid motion. Or at least such was his impression…

* * *

For a few moments there was nothing but the wind, ice cold and whipping mercilessly against his cheeks and ears, and the Prussian pulled the coat tighter around himself with lidded eyes, ignoring the pitiful chirp his movement elicited. It seemed that they were indeed _flying_ , but the sensation in itself was utterly horrible. The emptiness beneath them made Gilbert's stomach cringe and he did not dare look down, instead focusing his gaze ahead, but there was no horizon visible in the almost complete darkness. Their flight, however dreadful, proved sooner than later rather short-lived, but the silver haired prince genuinely sighed in relief as the small boat ended its gliding and landed ungraciously onto the waves. Cold seawater splashed onto the three of them, effectively soaking them from head to toe.

"Pull out the paddles! We must distance from the cliffs as much as we can before we're crushed!" Gilbert could barely hear the Italian's shout as he hugged himself (and Gilbird) tightly, his eyes squeezed shut and teeth clattering uncontrollably from the cold.

"Gilbert! Grab this and row! NOW!" The numbed arms that had been only seconds before almost glued to his trunk moved and frozen fingers clutched the oar which Valentin had shoved into his hands before his mind actually processed what was happening. The prince's body got to work way ahead of his brain, dipping the improvised oar into the icy, angry waves and beginning to wrestle against them.

As predicted, soon the weather got even worse, as a pestering drizzle began to pour down on them, whipping at their faces and stinging their eyes incessantly. But that was not the worst part – the waves hitting them seemed to grow ever stronger and taller, shaking the small boat as a leaf. Gilbert would curse if his lips had not been sealed by the cold and the adrenaline rush, his heartbeat one with the fainter pumping of the miniscule heart shielded inside his coat.

And then suddenly one particularly large wave literally washed over them, ripping one of the timber-and-cloth wings from its place. The piece dropped and hit the Italian in the head, causing him to collapse forward, his oar slipping from his limp hands and quickly swallowed by the raging sea. That was the last thing the Prussian prince saw before everything went dark.

* * *


	25. Pledge

_**Warning – there will be some graphic violence in this chapter!** _

* * *

The first thing his faint hearing perceived as he began to slowly come back to his senses was the monotonous sound of the waves hurrying to meet the shore, before actually feeling them as they gently lapped at the strip of sand and a half of his own body. The Prussian literally felt like an abandoned carcass, out of which only the head was still somewhat functional. _You're a prince, you can't and you won't lie here like a dead thing!_ his mind worked to spur him into movement, but his limbs were not obeying him. It was hard, so damned hard. As he was lying face down onto the cold, frozen sand, the first thing he deemed necessary to do was to spit out some that had gotten into his mouth, yet the salty and somewhat bitter taste refused to leave his tongue.

_Fucking hell_ … he groaned, or more thought he did, cursing some more over the realization that his throat was sore, most likely from the cold seawater he must have been swallowing. _How did I end up here? What happened? Where am I?_ All the sudden questions buzzing through his head didn't help at all, so the prince eventually decided to take things one at a time. Slowly and extremely careful, his frozen fingers tensed, then moved, gripping the ground beneath him, and he made an effort to push himself up. At first all he managed was to roll onto his back, then hauled himself into a sitting position. The sudden abrupt movement got him dizzy, and he instantly gripped his head in shaky hands, before glancing around.

The sea was black, inky waves now slow and calm after the raging storm that had taken place… how long ago? He couldn't tell… Somewhere, far away in the distance the Prussian made out the vague contours of the island they'd looked at from the Italian's balcony, shrouded by some light fog, like the unreachable goal it had remained after all. The small beach he was currently on appeared to be deserted, with only the remainders of a few wooden fishing boats abandoned nearby. Tall, thick trees surrounded the strip of sand, menacing and confusing, making it impossible for Gilbert to get even the faintest idea of where he was, before he saw the walls. _The Topkapi fortress._

The massive stone walls weren't as close as he'd initially thought with obvious dread, but they couldn't have been that far away either. The current must have swept them to the north instead of east - as they'd planned to go – towards that island.

_And where is Valentin? If I was washed to shore here, maybe he…maybe he was too?_ Gilbert had no memory whatsoever about what had happened to their small boat and when he'd, well, left it. _God, please, let him still be alive, please!_ At that thought the silver haired prince's eyes instantly filled with tears and he sobbed loudly, pulling his damp coat around his body, the coat that was now empty – Gilbird was gone too. And Gilbert pulled it closer, tighter around himself, as if trying to protect himself from the sheer cruelty of it all.

* * *

" _O yalnız değildi! Bu şekilde gel! Çabuk!"_

_Janissaries!_ Gilbert let out a grumbled swear and instantly jumped to his feet, all other thoughts forgotten at the sound of the hoarse shouts and yells coming from among the trees behind him. He turned around on his heels, sword drawn in reflex and muscles tensing as the adrenaline rush coursed through him, chasing away all numbness. There was no time and no place to hide, and the prince had no such intention to, anyway. If this was going to be his last stand before the fulfillment of his cruel fate, he would take it with dignity. He would die as a free man.

Balancing the blade in his right hand, he waited impatiently but it took a little while until the soldiers came into view. There were five of them and the rising moon cast a pale and eerie light over their high helmets, leather breastplates and the curved blades held menacingly forward. "Shit, there's five of the damned bastards!"Gilbert muttered under his breath, tightening the grip on the handle of his own sword.

" _Kılıcını bırak ve kendinizi teslim!"_ one of them, which appeared to be their leader shouted, but the Prussian only grinned, shaking his head. " _Beni hayatta almayacağım! Bu kez değil!"_

The prince leaned slightly in a defensive position as the Janissaries lunged forward, curved blades held up in the air. _Their curved, shorter swords are made to slash and cut, and they need to come close to be able to deliver a good blow. Your sword is long and straight, just stay out of their range and aim for a clean thrust…_ Gilbert remembered the lesson he'd never thought he'd get the chance to ever put into practice. At least he would try to take as many of them as he could with him to the other world!

The prince waited patiently despite the ever growing tension, and when the first man got close enough and was about to strike, he dodged him quickly in the last second, turning around and stabbing him in the back with a short, rapid thrust. The body collapsed facedown with a light thud onto the sand behind him, but the Prussian did not even hear it as he quickly lifted his sword to block a blow aiming directly for his head. He pushed with all his strength against his attacker, but the man was no lightweight and the blade he wielded was slowly but surely inching in towards his face. He made one last effort to reject his opponent, but right then the Janissary booted him in the stomach, and Gilbert was sent tumbling backwards, sword very nearly flying from his hand.

"Fucking hell!" the silver haired prince swore out loud, rising quickly and tugging and the damp trousers unpleasantly sticking to his feet. The remaining four soldiers were now closing in at the same time, seeking to encircle him. _I can't let them trap me!_ he pondered briefly, absent an actual plan, as he lunged forward towards the one he deemed the weakest of the group. The man countered his attack, making his blade slide to the side against his own, but he hesitated for a fleeting moment and the Prussian slammed his forehead into his face with full force. Blood gushing from his broken nose and dizzy from the blow, the soldier lost his balance and fell onto his back, breaking the circle.

Gilbert jumped over his out sprawled form and put some distance between himself and the group, but still, there wasn't much of a victory. There were three of them left and the fourth would probably get up sooner or later as well. The prince cursed himself for not stabbing that one too when he'd had the chance. No time for regrets though before another attacked him, delivering a quick set of short blows, each seeking the right angle that would catch him unprepared. _Damn it, when did he get so close?_ Gilbert was getting tired and his sword arm was growing gradually unsteady and aching. _I can't go on much longer_ … he concluded morosely, feeling his end near.

"Herr Beilschmidt! Herr Beilschmidt!" a voice suddenly resounded nearby, from among the trees behind them, drawing the Janissaries' attention. The Turk turning his head for the briefest moment was all that the Prussian needed to impale his breast plated chest in full. The movement however took away almost all of his remaining strength, and he dropped on his knees right next to the fresh corpse, panting heavily and gripping the handle of his sword to support himself.

"Herr Beilschmidt!" the Italian called again, rather short of breath himself, as he came into view carrying a _scimitar (A/N – Ottoman sword)_ which was obviously too heavy for his fragile hand. _What the hell is he doing with that?_ Gilbert found himself thinking randomly, before shaking himself out of the daze.

"Signor Vargas, run! Get away from here!" he yelled, despite the coarseness of his own voice that didn't exactly help. "Get away from here! Run!" he repeated, motioning back towards the trees, although he doubted that the little Italian's legs, unused to effort as they must have been, could actually carry him very far before the Janissaries would get their hands on him.

The Prussian made a move to get up, but suddenly a heavy boot hit him in the chest. He instantly found himself pinned down on his back, air brutally kicked out of his lungs.

" _Ve şimdi… öleceksin, pis inançsız!"_ one of the three Janissaries shouted, the scimitar lifted above his head and ready to strike a deadly blow. Gilbert squeezed his eyes shut, murmuring a short prayer. He did not have time to make the cross sign over his chest before a warm, thick liquid was splashed all over his face, and a considerable weight was dropped over him, suffocating. There was a blurry moment in which the prince no longer had any idea what was going on around him, hearing only some faint shouting in the surrounding darkness. Then his eyes snapped open and he was alert once more, forcing his muscles to push away the burden pressing over his chest, which turned out to be the body of the soldier that was about to strike him.

Wiping the blood off his eyes and face with the back of his hand, Gilbert hauled himself into a sitting position, just in time to see his prince engaging one of the two remaining Janissaries. Valentin had not had a sword when they'd left the castle, but somehow he'd gotten a scimitar, just like the Italian. _There must have been more soldiers… did he and Feliciano take them out?_ he wondered in somewhat of a puzzlement. The older prince observed the clashing of swords in a daze, as the second one joined the fight.

_He can't handle them both in the same time!_ Gilbert thought almost out loud, struggling to get himself up and standing. But the strawberry blonde moved swiftly, wielding the blade with lightning speed, and they couldn't trap him so easily. And then it all happened in the blink of an eye. One of the men eventually fell, but the other managed to knock the sword off Valentin's hand and aimed for a quick deadly blow. But the Romanian trapped his wrist with one hand, while the sharp nails of the other clawed at his opponent, slashing his throat open. Dark blood gushed out from the ugly wound, and the Janissary dropped to his knees, choking, only to be pushed backwards by the younger prince's boot.

* * *

"Valentin! You…you live!" the Prussian whispered, still finding it hard to believe it. He gripped the blonde's shoulders and was about to lean in for a kiss before the Romanian inconspicuously tilted his head in Feliciano's direction. "Right… I mean, Your Highness! Thank God, you are alright!" he added louder. And you saved me yet again!" The blonde tsked him with somewhat of an amused expression.

"And Vali, now that we're free… I want to renew my pledge," he said a bit nervous, dropping down on one knee and taking his prince's hand in his. "From this day and until the end of my days, you, my prince, will have my sword and my heart! Do you accept it?"

"Yes, my liege!" Valentin replied solemnly, as the Prussian brought his hand to his lips.

"Herr Beilschmidt, look what I found!" Feliciano interrupted their ceremony, walking up to join the pair. Gilbert glanced up and saw him pulling something small and golden from the inside of his damp velvet jacket. "He was resting on the same piece of wood I happened to float on…" he added as the small bundle took off from his cradled palm, chirping happily.

"GILBIRD! You're alive!" the Prussian exclaimed in amazement, as the little yellow canary landed on his favorite spot atop his head.

"Well, it's not that surprising, since he _can fly_ …" Valentin observed, and then gasped. "I'm sorry, I wasn't…um… implying anything, Signor Vargas! We are forever indebted to you! We could never have done it without your invention!"

"Oh, you mean that?" Feliciano threw a sad glance at the waves. "That was a terrible fiasco!" he murmured chagrined.

_That's an understatement. Flying –and falling - with that thing was the most embarrassing thing I've ever done. It even tops walking back to the castle drunk off my ass and butt naked!_ the older prince pondered.

"Well, I'm sure you'll improve it one day, and for now it has served its purpose, so don't worry about it. Now we must hurry before we get any more company – they had two horses, left them a little way back. We'll get on and out of here!"

**THE END**

* * *

**Dictionary:**

**O yalnız değildi! Bu şekilde gel! Çabuk! – He wasn't alone! Come this way! Quickly!**

**Kılıcını bırak ve kendinizi teslim! – Drop your sword and surrender yourself!**

**Beni hayatta almayacağım! Bu kez değil! – You won't take me alive! Not this time!**

**Ve şimdi… öleceksin, pis inançsız! - And now ... you will die, filthy non-believer!**

* * *


End file.
